Changing Death, Original
by borderline-mary
Summary: Everything has a price, and everyone pays in their own way. Safety, commitment, trust, power - all of them can cost more than they seem, and nothing good comes without a darker side. YusKei, HiKur, YusKur, warnings inside. -DISCONTINUED; SEE REWRITE-
1. Consequences

Part 1:

Consequences

_WARNINGS: Death, Spoilers, Strong Language, Suicide, Violence_

_PAIRINGS: Hiei/Kurama/Hiei, Yukina/Kuwabara/Yukina, Keiko/Yuusuke/Keiko, Botan/Koenma/Botan, Koenma/Yuusuke, eventual Yuusuke/Kurama/Yuusuke_

_A link posted on my profile page connects to a list of definitions for any Japanese terms I use in this story, as well as any obscure English words. A second link takes you to the list of chapter theme songs. I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho, insert other disclaimers here, et cetera, ad infinitum._

_Note: Yes, Hiei acts weird in the first few chapters. No, this is not me being half-assed. Yes, this is plot-related._

_Final note: ALL PAIRINGS ARE SUBTEXT ONLY; while they exist, they are most definitely not the focus of the story, and may never be touched on even indirectly. Just be aware that they're in the background, and might be affecting the actions of the characters._

_**-THIS VERSION OF THE FIC HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED; SEE REWRITE (POSTED SEPARATELY). THIS POSTING REMAINS FOR REFERENCE AND BY REQUEST.-**_

* * *

Yuusuke woke.

It was two a.m., or thereabouts, and something didn't feel right. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, trying to make his sleep-fuzzed brain pinpoint the source of the feeling, and let his eyes adjust to the dimness of his room.

The open window behind him showed a waning moon and a smattering of unusually bright stars, and insects thrummed invisibly in the grass below. It was cool without being chill; he was quite comfortable after the initial shock of exposure. His keen hearing detected no other sounds beyond those of the insects and his own breathing. He listened again to make sure.

Almost as a reflex, he checked for his friends' youki. Yukina's was readily found - but other than that, he felt no other.

Hiei's ki, which had been present earlier in the night, was gone.

After a moment of alarm, Yuusuke relaxed. _He's probably gone back to Makai. I thought he might. Though why that should wake me up at this ungodly hour, I have no idea._

Yawning hugely and ignoring his lingering unease, Yuusuke crawled back into the nest of his bedcovers and dropped off to sleep.

But that sleep didn't last long.

With the first dimming of the stars came a loud pounding on Yuusuke's front door, nearly at the same time. The spirit detective tumbled from his bed, swearing, and attempted to disentangle his legs from the blanket. "K'so! What time is it?"

"Urameshi!" bellowed Kuwabara's voice from outside the apartment. "Urameshi! Let me in! Something's wrong!"

The tone of that shout caught Yuusuke's attention; hurriedly extricating himself, he rushed in his pajamas to the door, fumbling the latch open and flinging the door wide. Kuwabara (also still in his pajamas) nearly punched him, not realising that there was nothing to knock on anymore, and Yuusuke ducked swiftly to avoid the unintended blow.

"What is it, Kuwabara? Tell me already!"

"I got a bad feeling, Urameshi!" the carrot-top shouted, apparently oblivious to the fact that Yuusuke could hear him perfectly well. "Really bad! It woke me up about an hour ago, and then Koenma just appeared in my bedroom and told me to get you!"

"Wait a minute - _Koenma_ sent you? This must be _really_ bad!"

"We're supposed to meet at my house! Come on!"

Without further talk, the two of them dashed out of the apartment and down the street, leaving the door ajar, and keeping their feet with effort in the darkness before dawn.

Koenma and Botan were already waiting with Yukina when the two boys arrived, panting from exertion and moaning about blistered feet; they wasted no time in conveying the message that whatever was going on, it was serious indeed. Yukina looked frightened; Kuwabara gathered her up in a comforting hug.

"All right, what's going on?" Yuusuke demanded. "This had better be good!"

"It's not good, Yuusuke," Koenma replied, his face grave. "In fact, it's very bad."

"Well what i_s_ it?" the boy cried in frustration. "You dragged us out of our beds in the middle of the night -"

"Hiei is dead."

x . o . x . o . x . o . x

It was morning before Yuusuke staggered through the still-open door of his apartment. He felt nothing but numbness; had felt nothing for hours. A sick feeling had settled in his gut and was refusing to be dislodged, and his coordination had deserted him, leaving him to stumble over objects and into furniture on the way back to his room. His mother's uproarious snores cut through the thin walls like a jackhammer, and he gave a purely physical wince at the raucous noise.

Koenma's words rolled unceasingly through his head: multitudinous ramifications, myriad courses of action that they might take, a hundred and more things that they must now do. With Hiei gone, the Reikai Tantei were at half strength at best, and the fire demon had been supposed to play a key role in their next assignment.

So said Koenma.

But behind that perpetual drone, Botan's voice rang limpid and unforgettable, repeating over and over again the words that had thrown Yuusuke into his dazed shock.

_I'm afraid, Yuusuke, that Hiei took his own life . . ._

His knees banged painfully against the edge of his bed; he didn't recall reaching it. He flopped down on the soft, inviting mattress, blessing his Western-style bed, while at the same time knowing that sleep would be hard-won and excruciating, if it came at all.

_Another of my friends gone. It hasn't even been three weeks since we lost Kurama. I guess Hiei just couldn't take it . . . Kisama! Why now? Why in Ningenkai? And why didn't I see it coming?_

It was that last that haunted him. He'd k_nown_ that Kurama had been Hiei's closest friend - the only one the Jaganshi would even reluctantly call by the term. He'd known that, and he'd known how little Hiei thought of himself, and he still hadn't even guessed at how deep the pain of losing Kurama had truly run. Somehow he'd thought the Jaganshi would pull through as stoically as he had always seemed to weather agony.

Now it seemed preternaturally clear, and Yuusuke cursed himself a thousand times over for a fool.

A thump sounded from the other room, and the snoring broke off with an odd hiccup. In a moment rustling and unsteady footsteps followed, and he heard his mother enter the kitchen, mumbling sleepily to herself as she sought out sustenance.

_Or booze. Ah, gods, I hate my life. I _hate _it. And I feel like all of this is my fault._

He surrendered the notion of sleep, and rose wearily to get dressed for the day.

If he'd been a touch more sensitive, or perhaps if he had been paying better attention, he would have felt the briefest flash of a familiar youki before it flitted back into nonexistence.

x . o . x . o . x . o . x

Hiei perched motionless on a chair in Koenma's office, unblinking as a statue and calm as a glacier. The infant sat behind his desk and did his best to imitate the youkai's own patented glower while he shuffled through various papers on the hopelessly cluttered surface. Botan was not present this time, being busy helping Yuusuke prepare for the next mission, and her absence left a hole in the air that all but absorbed sound.

"That," Koenma began, "was a very irresponsible thing to do, Hiei." He paused, perhaps waiting for his words to have an impact, but the Jaganshi didn't so much as bat an eyelash. A tiny anger vein began to pulse on the ruler's temple. "The Reikai Tantei can't function without you at present, and my hands are all but tied. Because of the nature of your death, Reikai law forbids me from giving you a second chance."

Still he elicited no response; but he thought he saw the ghost of a smirk touch Hiei's lips.

The miniature hands slammed down on the desk in pure frustration. "Dammit, Hiei, what sort of effect did you think a thing like this was going to have? Or did you even think that far ahead?"

For the first time, Hiei spoke, his words as crisply succinct as ever. "You are a fool, Koenma. Your Reikai Tantei has no need of me, and you doubtless have replacement candidates in mind. I am unwanted, unwelcome, and useless."

"No, you're _not! _You were never any of those things! Every person you knew back on Ningenkai is mourning you right now!"

Hiei let out a short, barking, humorless laugh. "Then they are fools as well."

"What does it take to get you to understand?" Koenma was coming close to bruising his fists on the desktop. "Your selfishness is going to get them killed!"

"I don't care."

Something in that statement stopped Koenma cold; something unspoken, and unimaginably painful. Until that moment, in all the cases he had ever reviewed, he had never encountered anything quite like it before.

"You - you can't mean that!" he stammered, fully aware that Hiei had never meant anything as surely. The baby ruler was panicked now - his only hope had lain in convincing the fire demon to return to life, and rules be damned. Now, knowing that he could not succeed, he had no contingency left to him. "All three worlds depend on you! I'm willing to break every rule in the book to give you your life back, because we need you alive!"

Hiei looked bored, though more pain flashed in his expression. "I'm tired of being lied to, infant. Send me to oblivion for all I care, but if you try to force me to return to life, I will kill you in an instant." His strange red eyes burned into Koenma's own.

"Kurama would have gone back."

Koenma knew in a second that it was the worst thing that could ever have passed his lips. Hiei recoiled as if he'd been stabbed, those eyes overflowing with hurt, guilt and worse - but an instant later it was all driven out by an unholy rage that spilled glittering from the irises to set alight his entire face. A strong smoky tang invaded the air as Hiei snarled, "You will never again speak his name, Koenma! You are beneath him, and you sent him off to die! And it was for love of fools like you that he went willingly to his death!"

He had risen from his chair in a flash of movement to grab a shocked Koenma by the scruff of the neck, and smoke formed a smoldering haze around him. What he said next, Koenma would never forget.

"No one, not even I, is more evil than you."

The toddler hung absolutely motionless in the air, certain that Hiei could silence him before he could even cry out. His emergency button was just that much within reach, but he didn't even consider going for it. He could do nothing but wait, and hope.

He wasn't sure which surprised him more: that Hiei set him down, or the fact that he was almost gentle about it.

Koenma hit the button without looking at it, never breaking eye contact with the Jaganshi. As a small army of oni burst in to surround the unresisting youkai, he collected himself enough to speak. "You may be right about that, Hiei, but you're wrong about one thing."

"And what's that?" inquired Hiei in a conversational tone that rattled Koenma more than his previous rage.

"Kurama isn't dead."

* * *

_And that's where, at this point in my writing process, I ran out of ideas._


	2. A Godling's Game

Part 2:  
A Godling's Game

_Hiei is mildly OOC in this chapter; it passes quickly, and isn't _too_bad, I hope. I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho, insert other disclaimers here, et cetera, ad infinitum._

* * *

"So are you gonna tell us what this mission is about?"

Koenma's eye began to twitch at the snide, so Yuusuke-like question, and Yuusuke almost smirked. That smirk _might_ have given him away, though, so he suppressed it. There were too many people watching, and showing his feelings in front of Yukina, of all of them, would not have been his first choice. She had enough to deal with after her brother's death; he felt obligated to put on a cheerful front for her.

"Don't get smart with me, Yuusuke. I've had a very bad day." The tiny god hrmphed and made a visible attempt at looking less cross. He failed, but Yuusuke deemed it prudent not to point that out. "I'm reluctant to even send you on this assignment without Hiei, but I don't have much of a choice in the matter. You'll have to go to Makai for this, so get things straight in Ningenkai first."

There was a maddening pause; Yuusuke glanced at Kuwabara, who was practically steaming from the ears, torn as he was between yelling at Koenma and not offending Yukina. Yuusuke sympathized. He was about to break into the silence himself with another aggravating demand, but Botan beat him to it.

She flipped her hair from her eyes with a practiced toss of her head and swooped a bit closer to Yuusuke on her oar. "It involves the koorime, which is why Yukina has been temporarily drafted to help, and it's very dangerous. They have somehow obtained a very -- volatile magical item, and your job is to recover it, undamaged, and return it to Reikai."

Koenma nodded his agreement with her words. "Hiei was vital, I'm afraid. He was to act as both spy and diversion, and without his help this mission is almost impossible. You're going to have a lot more trouble now than you would otherwise."

They both seemed to be done talking for the moment. Yuusuke swallowed the grief and anger that had risen at their casual mention of Hiei, and was again about to say something -- and was interrupted before he had completed a syllable, this time by his former rival. He glared death, but no one paid attention.

"So what does this magic doohickey look like?" Kuwabara was unusually gruff and clipped in his speech, and Yuusuke felt a second pang of empathy. Kuwabara's relationship to Hiei had been much the same as his initial one with Yuusuke himself, and in time it might have progressed to the friendship the two boys now shared. _So many opportunities down the drain._

He was so involved in his momentary fatalistic thoughts that he missed Koenma's answer to the question, and jerked himself back to the present with a spaced-out "What?"

"I said, that's one of the things I can't tell you. Just describing it could cause catastrophic repercussions, and put all three worlds in danger. You'll have to figure it out for yourself."

"Wonderful," Yuusuke said sarcastically, finally managing to get the first word in. "So we have to go spy on people who probably know that we -- were -- friends with the person they hate most, and then take an extremely dangerous something away from them without knowing what it is. And, if we screw up, naturally all three worlds get plunged into chaos. Just _lovely."_

Botan gave him a scandalized glare as Koenma made a sharp, exasperated noise somewhat resembling a snort. He shook his head. "I've already said I don't have a choice. You are the only ones who even have a chance of pulling this off without major casualties, so you're appointed, Hiei or no Hiei. Now go get ready."

With this clear dismissal, the toddler turned his attention back to the haphazard mess of papers on his desk, and Botan floated over to usher them out of the room.

As they exited, they were almost flattened by George, who ran right past them and into Koenma's office. Though this was hardly an unusual occurrence, something like a curious compulsion prompted Yuusuke to hang back from his departing group, straining his ears to hear what was being said.

"What now?"

"You told me to report in every hour on the prisoner, sir."

"Oh, that's right. Any change?"

"No, sir. He hasn't stopped laughing since we locked him up, and we're trying to figure out a safe way to get in and clear away all those little black jewels he keeps shedding. The floor's nearly an inch thick with them."

"Do the best you can. Right now, I don't know if we can even hope to --"

"Yuusuke, are you coming or not?" The sprightly attendant of souls startled him into a yelp, and he hurried to catch up with the others, thinking hard about what he had heard.

_Little black jewels . . ._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

In Ningenkai, a figure crouched on the branch of a very old tree, sniffing the lingering scent that remained there. The faint musk made his eyes mist with nostalgic longing. He gazed sadly into the window of a familiar room, taking in things already committed to heart and memory and reinforcing them.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He could jeopardize the worlds if he failed to mask his ki completely, or if he was missed where he _was_ supposed to be -- but, gods, he needed this. It wasn't the first time he had slipped out of Makai to visit this place; it was all that kept him going some days.

He missed his friends, his family. He did not know how they fared. He didn't dare get close enough to observe them directly, and searching for ki would reveal his own. His heart harbored a fervent wish that they were well, and he hoped they understood why he had to be away.

Koenma would have explained. Of course he had.

A sound within alerted him, and with a last mournful glance, the figure withdrew, and fled swiftly for the Makai gate.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kuwabara had always found Makai creepy. There was way too much to feel here, and none of it was especially friendly. But with Yukina at his side, he stalwartly refused to let even a hint of his discomfort slip. He had to be strong for her.

He heard a rattle, and started nervously before realizing that it was just the silk pouch Yukina had begun to keep with her to hold her tear gems. She had been crying a lot lately; Kuwabara was suffering from feelings of helplessness and inadequacy because of his inability to help her work through her brother's death.

He shuddered. He _still_ couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of never seeing Hiei again. The cruel three-eyed demon had become one of those permanent, annoying fixtures in Kuwabara's life -- to be suffered when he was present and to be made fun of when he wasn't. As much as Kuwabara disliked the Jaganshi's company, he found that it was painful, to know that he was gone forever.

_Every time I say anything, I keep expecting that shrimp to insult me or something,_ he thought. _It's weird to be on a mission without him._

And to know what Hiei had done -- that was the one thing the carrot-haired sensitive would _never_ have expected.

"Hey, earth to Kuwabara! What are you staring at?"

"Huh?" Kuwabara replied intelligently, before his brain kicked in with a belated retort. "Nothing, Urameshi! I'm just keeping a lookout for monsters, that's all!"

Yuusuke snickered. "Yeah, I'm sure there are lots of monsters in Yukina's cleavage."

Kuwabara's blush added beets to his ensemble of vegetable colors. "Shut up, Urameshi! I wasn't -- I mean -- just shut up!"

Yukina looked from Yuusuke to Kuwabara and back, confused, but evidently decided not to ask.

Then Yuusuke's smirk vanished, and he pointed forward. "Heads up, guys. Koorime territory, dead ahead."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It hurt. It all hurt. The laughter, the tears, the rasp of breath into lungs that no longer had need of it -- all of it hurt. But he couldn't stop it, not any of it.

It was just so _funny._

_And I called Koenma a fool. No one was ever as much of a fool as I. I finally mustered the courage to end a life I hated, and now I find out that my rationale doesn't exist. That the one thing I was looking forward to isn't here._ He _isn't here. He isn't even dead._

Hiei put a hand to his face, blocking out the light and feeling the hard pellets of his tear gems bounce off the skin. It was strange; that he still had skin. It was the same texture and temperature as his body's had been, and it could still feel pain and react to stimuli. In truth, except for the absence of hunger and fatigue, he felt no different now than he had in life.

_Hn. I guess suicide is overrated._

That thought only caused the laughter to intensify, and he curled up in one corner of his cell, gems forming a glittering black pool beneath his face.

He took a moment, just one, to wonder when the tears stopped being tears, and became as hard and cold as his soul.

And he laughed.

* * *

_0.0 I'm so callous to Hiei!_

_Am I getting worse at this? This chapter's really short because I'm running out of good ideas. I mean, I can write plotless emotional experiences until the cows come home, but make me think of an actual plot and I fall over. o.0 I'm enlisting the help of a sister who's much better at random ideas than I am, so hopefully things will pick up plotwise._

_Anyway, a short note on Chapter 2: I had read a fic in which Hiei died and was talking to Koenma in Reikai, but was not able to touch him because he was a spirit. While I get this, I decided that he should be able to touch Koenma for several reasons. Firstly, even spirits have a "physical" aspect, insofar as they can interact with other spirits in a way that at least simulates physical touch. Secondly, Koenma, though we forget this a lot because he's just so darn disorganized, is a god. I decided after some thought that being a god, and especially one in charge of Reikai, he would almost have to be able to interact with all planes of physicality, and therefore with the dead as well as the living. As an example, in the episode in which Koenma gives Yuusuke his spirit egg, Yuusuke accepts it directly from Koenma's hand. Thirdly, even if this were not true, the rules seem to be different in Reikai than Ningenkai; Botan, when not wearing her physical body, can touch nothing in Ningenkai but can in Reikai. This led to my exploring ideas about the physical aspects of a dead person's experience, and being mean to poor Hiei._

_Well, that was a long and tiresome author's note, so I'll end it with just one more thing: if I'm consistently misspelling anything or getting a fact wrong or have my plotline incorrect, please let me know; it's important to me to be meticulously correct. I'm a perfectionist, bear with me._


	3. When You Were Free

Part 3:  
When You Were Free

_I was rereading the last chapter and I realized that Yukina has no personality and never does anything. Sorry about that. I'm not as familiar with her as I am with the other characters in the series, so I'll brush up on my YYH watching and give her a more active role. I'm having my sister dig up everything she can find on the koorime in general and Yukina in particular to help me out. Oh, and Kurama (who's the focus of this chapter!) is a little OOC, but it'll get better. There's a flashback in this chapter, just to warn you, that won't get explained until later._

* * *

An errant wind sprite puffed unexpectedly, sending a nearby dust devil into a rage. The two battled with fury, their miniature war carrying them into the path of the lone figure that crouched in the open, arid plain. Silver hair, dulled with dust, rose up to dance with the opposing forces, as if seeking to placate them while still at the mercy of their whims; and they died down, their energy spent, leaving a quiet, dead calm in their wake.

A slender, almost feminine hand rose to tuck back the disheveled tresses, and golden eyes blinked away lingering grit. It was noon. The orange sun had settled into a steady beat, now nearly unnoticed, so long had he been under its baleful eye.

_Perhaps today . . ._

Kurama had spent much of the day here on the plain. Hardly any life was to be seen; only sparse trees in the distance, and the occasional shrub dotting the dusty landscape. He privately thought that the guard duty he had been set was rather pointless -- he had yet to see anything more dangerous than a raven -- but he had no intentions of allowing his masters to know that.

As if that thought had been a silent summons, he felt youki approaching and quickly stood to attention, his posture more alert and his ears pricked forward. By the time the lumbering form trundled into view, he was the very picture of attentiveness.

The demon's name was Gendou, and he and his partner Donari lived in this most deserted corner of Makai. He was a huge, lumpy sort of demon, with a pale mustard-coloured hide, enormous claws and jutting tusks that skewed his otherwise humanoid face out of proportion.

"Well, youko," he said, "get inside. You've some work to do for Donari."

Kurama acquiesced with a liquid gesture of deference, cringing inwardly at Donari's summons. She was the older of the two, and had a certain streak of sadism that Gendou did not share. Hunting and guarding were the least of what he was expected to do, and both suppressing his true power and maintaining his facade of youko indifference were wearing on him.

As he ran swiftly back to the demons' residence, he made a mental calculation of how many days he'd been here. It was a dismayingly large number -- over three weeks, and he'd still found out nothing worth reporting. He would have to tell Koenma _something_ soon, but he was coming up dry.

_Perhaps today . . ._

The strange dwelling rose up above the crest of the hill, fully as off-colour and lumpish as Gendou. To Kurama's relief, Donari was not standing in the doorway waiting; he'd come to recognize _that_ as the worst kind of trouble, as it usually meant she was in a foul mood and looking for someone on whom to take it out. He wondered, a shade cynically, what she had used for a scapegoat before he'd shown up on her doorstep, in the guise of a whining, pathetically weak youko looking for work.

Pausing a moment to collect himself, he opened the door and flowed inside, utilizing all of the grace this form imparted. "Mistress Donari-sama?" he said softly. "You called for me?"

It was dim inside, enough so that had he been in his human form he might have had to squint to see the slender figure poised on the plush chair in the back of the main room. The inside of the house was as elegant as its outside was not, and in no small part thanks to Donari's influence over her cohort. Though not overly large, the room was well-appointed, with narrow, dark furniture artfully arranged along its irregular walls, and an enormous armchair in the corner to accommodate Gendou's larger size.

Unlike Gendou, Donari was nearly human-looking and quite beautiful, with long sea-green hair and luminous gray eyes that most ningen, male or female, would kill to possess. Kurama knew she had another form, a demon form, but she was a vain thing and preferred this almost-human visage for everyday use.

"Youko," she purred, rising and stalking over to meet him. "Good of you to come so promptly."

"I wait on your pleasure as always, Mistress," he replied, bowing low.

She heard the note of apprehension he let seep into his voice and laughed a tinkling laugh. "Don't worry, my dear fox, I'm not angry with you. I want you to brush my hair."

Kurama relaxed. This was something far less unpleasant than he had anticipated, and he allowed a small smile to glide across his face. "As you command, Mistress Donari-sama." He accepted the brush she indicated and waited until she had assumed a comfortable recline before applying it to her tresses.

As was her wont, she spoke to him as he worked.

"You've been a very good slave, youko. Did you know that?"

"No, Mistress," Kurama said, meaning it; he'd been wondering if his ruse was working at all.

"Always so modest. I like that. I don't think I've ever had a slave as obedient as you -- or so pretty." He could _hear_ her sultry smile, though she faced away from him. "I marvel that your ningen employers had so little sense as to let you go."

"Donari-sama is very kind."

Donari was silent for a moment, and he realised he had slipped up, falling into the bland, over-polite mode of speech he used on the ningen schoolgirls at home. He attempted to redeem himself by adding, this time in a warm, almost loving tone, "I feel no regret. After all, what is their company to yours?"

To his relief, she accepted the placation with a giggle. "Flatterer. I'm in an especially good mood today; perhaps you and I shall go hunting. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Mistress, I would enjoy that very much."

"Good. We shall certainly need something to do; that fool Gendou is leaving for a time, and as annoying as his prattle is, it does fill the hours."

Kurama was struck with curiosity. _Could this be . . ._ "Where is he going, Donari-sama?"

"Oh," she said flippantly, "he's caught wind that that group of ningen that have extraordinary reiki are in the Makai. They're supposed to have defeated the strongest among us. Rubbish, if you ask me; it's probably some low-level youkai's idea of a joke. In any case, our spies have told him that they're nearby, and so he's going to sharpen his claws on them." She gave another throaty chuckle. "He's so easily amused. As if ningen could truly present any kind of challenge. I don't know why I suffer him -- he's all muscle and no conversational skills."

Kurama nearly froze, his arms moving automatically in the motions of brushing Donari's hair. _That has to be the Tantei. He's going after the Tantei!_ His head spun, and he felt an overwhelming fear in the pit of his stomach. _What are they doing here in Makai? Koenma can't have sent them on a mission -- he_ knows _how dangerous Gendou and Donari are! What could he be thinking?_

Their casual banter lasted for more than half an hour past that point, but Kurama honestly couldn't recall a thing he said afterward.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

_"Hn. Stupid ningen females."_

_The height of the tree in which Hiei perched afforded him a prime view of the proceedings below him, which he observed with an odd mixture of fascination, amusement and disgust. It was early afternoon, and the ningen school Kurama attended had just dismissed for the day; students boiled out of the building, milling about like homeless ants and chattering in a grating, cacaphonic buzz. Groups formed and detached from the main amoebic mass -- girls going shopping, boys collecting in gangs, dating couples and hopeful groupies._

_It was the latter that Hiei was watching, the largest group by far. A drove of female students were drifting en masse down the pavement at an obscenely slow pace, coordinating themselves like a school of fish so that each had a clear line of sight to the crimson-haired object of their lust._

_Kurama, to all outward observers, was enjoying their attention immensely, but Hiei could feel his ki snapping with annoyance and smirked from his hiding place among the leaves of the ash tree. _It's just what he deserves for insisting on those polite ningen mannerisms. If he'd just tell them to go away, and maybe maim one or two, they would no longer be a problem. _He smiled at the thought of scattering the ningen like so many quail, but Kurama would be even further annoyed, so he quelled the urge to help whether the baka liked it or not and merely looked on. _Though I can't imagine why he made me promise to stay out of it. I'd take care of them, and he wouldn't have to sacrifice his pathetic protocol in the least. I don't understand his urge to be humiliated daily.

_As he had mulled over this puzzle before and always come up equally dry, he shrugged one shoulder in an unconscious gesture of surrender and waited. It would be over soon enough; Kurama would fabricate some imaginary task to attend to, and the crowd would dissipate with a collective sigh. Hiei had long since likened this event to water evaporating from a stone, an almost playful comparison that caused him no end of amusement; he had yet to see another ningen activity that so closely resembled a natural phenomenon._

_It occurred even as he thought on it. Kurama remained still and politely smiling until the dispersion was complete, heaved his own sigh, and then looked straight up at the tree. "You can come down now, you know."_

_Hiei started; he had apparently let his ki slip a little. With a grumble, he hopped swiftly to the ground, seeming to ningen eyes to appear beside the redhead, and covered his mistake with a jibe. "Well, my darling Shuiichi-kun, how are you today?"_

_Kurama groaned. "Hiei,_ please. _I've had quite enough of that for today."_

_"You've had quite enough of that for a lifetime," Hiei pointed out, hoping to rekindle the familiar argument. "You don't have to put up with it."_

_Kurama did not oblige him; leveling a tired eye on his companion, he deliberately changed the subject. "Have you seen Yuusuke today?"_

_"Why would I follow that fool? All he does is get into fights and simper over that girlfriend of his."_

_"And my school day is infinitely more interesting?"_

_Suspicion raised warning flags that kept Hiei's response clipped and careful. "I find it amusing to watch you swim through the vat of ningen girls every day. That's the only reason I come."_

_"I suppose I'll have to keep doing it, then," Kurama smiled, "or I'll have no one to walk home with anymore."_

_The Jaganshi rolled his eyes in disgust to mask the annoyance he felt at having his cautiously chosen words neatly turned on him, and did not respond._

_Kurama was used to filling the silence and continued on without pause, knowing instinctively that Hiei would have no answer to his comment. "I'm supposed to meet Yuusuke and Kuwabara at the coffee shop -- would you like to come along?" His smile was warm, and still sparkled with a trace of youko mischief. Hiei made a noncommittal "Hn" and nodded ever so slightly; he liked those meetings, though Kurama would have had to drag him over thorns to make him admit it. "Good then. We've a bit of time to kill before then, so let's take a walk in the park."_

_Hiei wondered how Kurama could possibly be in such a good mood after the latest siege of adoring females, but didn't bother asking about it. Once the kitsune had turned down an argument, he was quite deft at pretending, for the day at least, that the topic did not exist._

Fine. If he wants to go to the park and watch old ningen ladies walk dogs when he's in a good mood, that's his business.

_"No thanks," he said aloud, halting and turning to the left a trifle, preparing to head off on his own. "I'll meet you at the coffee shop."_

_Kurama looked disappointed for a brief flash, then smiled and shrugged; Hiei experienced a twinge of what might have been guilt. "Suit yourself," the fox said. "Be there at three."_

Hn,_speculated Hiei as he gave a nod and flitted off into the trees._ If I go early, he won't be there to talk me out of killing the oaf.

_With that bright spot to add to his day, he oriented himself towards the shop and jumped to the next tree, thoughts of the brief encounter already filed neatly away in the back of his mind to leave room for other things._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Scarcely an hour had passed, and Kurama was still running. His breath was short and his heart thudded in his pointed youko ears, but he dared not even slow enough to cover his tracks, nor to do more than watch where he was going. All thoughts of masking his ki were forgotten; instead, he drew on it to augment his speed.

He had to get to Reikai. Only Koenma might be able to tell him where the others were, and it was essential that he reach them. If they were indeed on a mission, an unexpected attack from such a powerful source could be calamitous.

He reached into his clothing and brought out the communication mirror given him by Botan before his mission. He flipped it open. "Botan, do you copy?"

Her miniaturized face appeared in the small circle. "What's up, Yuus -- oh! Kurama! What's going on? Have you found anything?"

"No time," he panted. "I've had to abort this mission. Open the gate to Reikai and I'll explain there."

Responding to the urgency in his voice, Botan complied rapidly and without asking questions, and in due course he was ushered into Koenma's office. Koenma, busy with something as always, looked up in surprise and blinked owlishly at this intruder into his domicile.

"Kurama! What are you doing back?"

Kurama reverted to his human form, exhausted, and demanded, "Where did you send the Tantei?"

Koenma glared. "Do you always answer a question with another question?"

"This is important!" Kurama came near to losing his temper, and fought not to slam his hands down on the paper-strewn desk. "Gendou is going after them!"

_That_ got Koenma's undivided attention. "What? Why?"

"Curiosity," replied the kitsune wearily. "Their spies reported that the Tantei were in Makai, and he wants to see if they're as good as rumor holds. Why did you send them on a case now?"

"I didn't have any other options. The koorime have gotten ahold of something very dangerous, and I need to get it back _now_ before they figure out what it does."

There was a bit of a pause. "My assignment has failed, I fear."

"You did the right thing coming to me with this. I can handle it from --"

"The Tantei are in koorime territory, yes?" Kurama did not wait for an answer; something in his gut told him that it was even more urgent than he had thought. "Good. I know the area." He spun on his heel and strode toward the office entryway. "I'm going to warn them and back them up. I'll report in when I've made contact."

"Wait! You don't know --"

But Kurama was already out the door.

* * *

_Worry not, Kurama's mission will get fully explained in due time. I'll probably be saying that a lot, so feel free to beat me with golf clubs if it gets too annoying. I just like to find ways to explain things that aren't just me saying, "This is why this is," or having the characters spontaneously think about it, or something equally as trite._

_This is turning into an epic, isn't it? I don't usually write things this long. It's all the lovely reviews! They are my life's blood! I can't live without them! Or my Hiei! (huggles Hiei) (runs for her life from the wrath of the katana) Hope you liked this chapter!_


	4. Musings

Part 4:  
Musings

_Sorry it's been so long since my last update. Um, not much to say in the author's note today . . . other than that I'm really stuck on this story now . . . At some point I'll get it figured out, but about two weeks ago an unsolicited writer's block decided to take up permanent residence in my brain and invite over all of its little friends. Fortunately I think it's lifting, since I managed to get this chapter done. Things are better plotwise, yes? No? I hope so; I worked hard on it. Another flashback in this chapter, you have been warned; the flashbacks _are _leading into something, I swear. Oh, and I lied a couple of chapters back -- Keiko will not be in this fic, at least not for a long, long time, because I can't think of a way to fit her in without screwing it up. Review responses have been moved to a separate location, which is posted on my profile page, and from now on, only those reviews with pertinent questions or comments will be responded to._

* * *

Koenma was beyond agitated. In fact, George believed he'd progressed into hysterical some time ago. In his teenaged form, he paced rapidly around his office, yelling and flailing his arms like a demented monkey without seeming to pause for breath between panicked shouts. Though he didn't get half of what was being said due to the volume of his ruler's speech, the implications Koenma claimed for this new situation made the oni shudder.

"WHAT IN THE THREE WORLDS AM I GOING TO DO NOW? HE'S GOING TO FIND OUT ABOUT EVERYTHING AND THEN HE'LL NEVER TRUST ME AGAIN, AND EVERYTHING WILL GO TO HELL! DO YOU HEAR ME, GEORGE! HELL!"

"Y-yes, sir, I heard you, but --"

"WHY COULDN'T KURAMA HAVE STAYED WITH DONARI FOR JUST ANOTHER FEW DAYS! NOW THAT'S BOTCHED AND THEY'LL BE AFTER REIKAI NEXT, AND MY FATHER WILL KILL ME, AND EVERYTHING WILL GO TO HELL! _DO YOU HEAR ME, GEORGE! HELL!"_

George didn't even bother trying to respond again, and began edging towards the doorway, snagging a stack of papers so he would look too busy to stay. "Um, sir? I --"

"WHAT IS IT, GEORGE?" Koenma yelled at him, interrupting his pacing to advance menacingly on the vacillating flunky.

"I'm-going-to-go-get-these-taken-care-of-sir-they-can't-wait-anymore-sir-I'm-so-sorry-sir!" George blurted, fleeing into the relative refuge of the hallway. Pausing to catch his breath, he wondered if it would ever be safe to go back in again. Dropping the papers on the nearest desk, he bolted for the cell bloc to perform his only real current duty -- checking on Hiei.

With any luck, he could get away with spending the next few hours there, under the pretext of waiting for a change. Even with the imprisoned youkai laughing as he was, anywhere was bound to be quieter than Koenma's office.

_I hope everything doesn't really go to hell,_ he thought fervently._He'll probably blame it on me . . ._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was colder than Yuusuke remembered it being the last time he had been here. It always seemed like that, so he ignored it and concentrated on moving about to keep warm. Kuwabara was to his left, busily not admitting how uncomfortable he was, and Yukina was naturally right at home.

_I must really be out of it -- I'm making mental puns. This_ is _her home, dummy._

They had been walking in the icelands for a length of time that was probably much shorter than it seemed, and the two boys were seriously regretting their lack of winter coats. The calf-deep snow sucked at Yuusuke's shoes and soaked his toes within minutes; they went numb in short order, but he had a plethora of other physical complaints to choose from, so at least he didn't have to add boredom to the list. That was an improvement over most long walks with Kuwabara.

There had, oddly enough, been no wildlife up until this point. Now he saw the occasional songbird, and a rare glimpse of what looked like a snow fox. Spotting that, he couldn't help but think that Kurama, in his youko form, would be perfectly suited to this place; he could blend right into the snow, and only his golden eyes would give the clue as to his position. This speculation caused him to become angry with his brain and its masochistic thought patterns, and began a rather interesting mental argument that lasted him another fifteen minutes.

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" he finally asked of Yukina, not for the first time.

She glanced back at him, startled at the sudden noise through the quiet. "Oh, certainly. We'll be there in a few days, I promise." She saw his blue extremities and gave him a brief look of sympathy which she quickly transferred to Kuwabara. "I'm sorry this is so hard for you." The koorime touched his shoulder gently.

The carrot-top's blush forced normal colour back into his face. "Aw, heh, it's not that bad," he disclaimed, rubbing the back of his head. Yuusuke rolled his eyes, which went unnoticed.

"What are the koorime elders like?" he asked in an effort ward off any effusive gushing on Kuwabara's part. After a trip this long, he was in no mood to listen to it.

Her face fell a little. "They're very strict, and can be hard to convince of anything. I'm not sure we can persuade them to give up the item we need -- once they know it's important, they may refuse to part with it."

The detective muttered something caustic and reached up to scratch his head. "That's just it. I'm not sure we should tell them it's important at all -- I don't know _what_ we should tell them, but if we just lay it all out for them, we'll never get anywhere. We may never even figure out what the item is."

"We're not going to lie, surely," Yukina said, a line appearing between her eyebrows. "That wouldn't be right."

"Well --" he hedged.

"No, no, of course not!" Kuwabara jumped in, glaring at Yuusuke. "We wouldn't lie to your elders, would we, Urameshi?" His voice was as full of belligerent challenge as ever.

Yuusuke sighed heavily. "No, we won't lie. We just might not tell them everything."

Though Yukina still looked troubled, she didn't object, and Yuusuke let loose a covert sigh of relief. _I was hoping she'd go along. This makes my job so much easier._ He considered hard. _But what_ should _we tell them? And should it even be "we"? We might end up having to send Yukina in alone, if I can get Kuwabara to let her. The koorime probably know we were teamed up with Hiei -- hell, the entire Makai knows about the Tantei, unless they're too low-level to care. That'll make these elders suspicious right off. And if we confront them about it, Yukina's gonna find out that Hiei was her brother, and there's no way in hell I wanna deal with _that._So -- what should I do?_

The answer came to him in the form of a memory -- from the Ankoku Buujuutsukai, no less.

_"I hope you have more extensive plans."_

_"Oh, come on, it's Yuusuke here! I don't have a clue!"_

_"You might not be so proud after you're defeated."_

_"Shut up. Something always comes to me at the end."_

_"Well, yes, even a fool has to admit a certain truth to that, Yuusuke . . ."_

Yuusuke grinned openly at the recollection of the conversation between himself and Hiei, which had taken place during his fight with the wind master Jin in the Ankoku Buujuutsukai. He abruptly missed the pointy-eared Scottish demon he had so briefly befriended; if he needed anything right now, it was the easy humor the two opponents had shared. But his own remembered words reassured him then as little else could have.

_Okay, so I don't have a plan. I'll just figure it out when I get there. In the meantime . . ._

Settling again in the steady pace of walking, Yuusuke smirked wickedly and began to think up all the ways involving snow and tree branches that he could best terrorize Kuwabara. After all, if he had to be miserable, he might as well have some fun with it.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

_Hiei shifted his legs to ease the discomfort of the bark burrowing into his back, consequently inflicting a minor scrape on his thigh, the which he ignored completely. It wouldn't take long to scab over, and he never even noticed these tiny abrasions any longer. He hadn't much room for physical pain in his thoughts in any case; he had just been to visit Yukina._

_It had been an unplanned, unofficial, and therefore secret visit: he had watched her from the cover of the parkside trees as she met with the oaf, and followed them as they strolled, watching the sunset. As always, he marveled at how happy she looked, and at the pleasure it brought him to see that -- of everything else in his life, only watching Kurama through his window rivaled this feeling of contentment. It was almost worth the pain that came with it._

_Pain was very like pleasure, he reflected. The one invariably contained a ghost of the other -- though he smiled sardonically at the thought that his basis for comparison was rather diminutive. Real pleasure had, thus far, proved as elusive as death, and he no longer knew himself which he craved more. Probably death; pleasure, he wouldn't trust._

_The wind picked up, shrieking in agony through the boughs of his tree, and he shook his head, clearing it of the pointless train of thought, and pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders to ward off the chill. Even in summer, the nights could make him shiver. It must have been nearing two, though he couldn't see the moon through the bescreening canopy; the air was damp and smelt of the storm to come, the subtler scents of animal life and the exhaust of ningen vehicles overlaying it with a bitter tang. Even at this hour the odd window light could be spotted from his vantage, and a pair of owls voiced their pleasure at the cool night. It was so different from the Makai, where the wildlife was scarce during daylight hours and utterly silent after dark; each rustle was more likely to be a danger to life and limb than the sleepy raccoon family Hiei heard in the bushes below his tree._

_Or, it might be more accurately said, Kurama's tree._

_He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time here on this particular branch, the leaves both hiding him effectively and letting him spy on his best friend with careless impunity. It irked him on occasion that he had nothing better to do, but he grudgingly admitted to himself that he found it soothing to watch Kurama go through the motions of ningen normalcy. Ningen customs were often boring, sometimes funny (most notably in the case of mating rituals), and even, rarely, horrifyingly alien -- but they were all worth watching in some bizarre way, and he had spent many idle hours trying to fathom the mindset behind such strange practices._

_The temperature fell minutely, the damp smell becoming more pronounced. Hiei grimaced in annoyance -- the rain was about to start. _It never rains half this much in the Makai. How do ningen stand all this water? _He considered shrugging into the thicker parts of the tree, but he would still get more than a little wet, so he decided to avoid it by taking immediate shelter._

_This, of course, meant prevailing upon Kurama; if Hiei went anywhere else he would never avoid a soaking. Though his pride rankled, he had no one else he would want to stay with in the Ningenkai anyway, and his dignity would be further damaged if he were to be seen with his hair and clothing plastered to him by rain. _It won't be the first time, _he thought, almost fondly. _That baka is too hospitable for his own good.

_As the first wet vanguard began to strike the foliage, he hopped swiftly from branch directly to windowledge; the sill would shortly become slick, so he needed to get inside quickly. It was dark in Kurama's room and the redhead was likely asleep. He tapped lightly on the window, and the pitch of the rattle told him it was not latched, so he pushed it cautiously open and slipped inside as soon as the opening had grown wide enough to admit him. Silent as the shadow he emulated, he shut the window behind him and padded across the floor._

_And he stopped short. Kurama was not, as he had anticipated, in his bed. Rather, he was sprawled over his desk, a mess of papers pillowing his cheek. His neck was bent at an angle that would doubtlessly cause him pain in the morning; a pencil lay lax in his hand, and his hair spilled in an unruly mass over one shoulder and onto the desk._

_Hiei was vaguely surprised to find the comfort-loving kitsune in such a state._ Hn. Must really have been tired. _He studied Kurama's position for a time, noting that it was not one particularly conducive to normal sleep; and after a moment he was decided._

_His hand reached up and lifted his headband to partially expose the Jagan, and he used its power to deepen his fox's slumber a bit, ensuring that he would not wake. Then he hoisted the redhead in his arms and took a single leap over to the bed._

_Here he stalled, unsure of how to go about it, but eventually elected to toss the covers back and put Kurama to bed fully clothed, laying the blankets loosely over him and allowing himself a slight, secret smile at his actions and Kurama's gentle snores._

_Now he looked out the window, where a driving rain was in the process of drenching everything quite thoroughly and with a vengeance he had seldom seen in ningen weather. Though it rained more often, it was usually gentler than the storms of the Makai. Hiei found it a familiar, comforting white noise, and as he was tired himself, he selected his favorite corner and curled up in a comfortable ball._

_Feeling sleep take hold immediately, he gave a wry, internal chuckle as he heard in his mind what Kurama would say to him in the morning. He even knew what his response would be._

"Ne, Hiei, did you put me to bed last night?"

"Hn."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Something nagged at Kuwabara's subconscious; an oddly familiar feeling, but he couldn't quite place it. It was just barely there, too persistent to be a hallucination, but not strong enough to identify.

"Oi, Urameshi?" he said.

"What?" Yuusuke jumped, looking guilty for some reason and hiding one hand behind his back. Suspicion rose, pushing the funny feeling into a mental corner.

"What's that behind your back?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just a stick I was messing with."

"Then why are you hiding it?"

"Because I knew you'd ask stupid questions, that's why!"

"Whaddya mean, stupid!"

"Look in a mirror, dumbass!"

"TEME!" He made a wild grab for the stick, only to be swiftly clonked on the head with it as his friend defended himself.

It was only after being assiduously trounced by Yuusuke and having his black eye healed by Yukina that Kuwabara recalled his original question; but by then, the feeling was gone.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Elsewhere in the Makai, a pink-and-yellow-clad figure flew speedily among tall pines, zig-zagging around limbs and needles, sweat standing out on her forehead. Her only thoughts were to keep her target in sight and keep herself from being noticed -- two objectives that were nearly mutually exclusive. Only the memory of her promised penalty, should she lose him, kept her going beyond her physical body's endurance.

She would not fail. Her soul depended on it.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Back in youko form, Kurama glided noiselessly through gnarled, coniferous trees, heading as quickly as he dared towards the ice country. He was hiding his youki as carefully as he had when serving under the two demons; it would not do to be found now.

He was already wasting time starting out this far from the koorime's home; Botan had insisted on his entering Makai at this particular spot. Koenma's last-minute orders, he speculated. There was something they weren't telling him, and this effort to stall him made him certain that they intended to prevent him from finding it out. This bothered him greatly -- he couldn't for the life of him manage to think of what they might want so badly to hide. He had proven trustworthy enough for the most dangerous of missions, hadn't he? Why keep things from him now?

Letting his guard down cautiously, he did a quick sweep for Yuusuke's ki, and located him a few miles inside koorime territory. Quickly he clamped down on his energy before he could be sensed, wishing he could leave himself open long enough to search out the others as well, Hiei in particular. _They should be where Yuusuke is, in any case,_ he reasoned. _I can't afford to take the chance of being caught before I can warn them. I only wish I could have found out Donari's secret; I'm certain Gendou is her subordinate, though why she granted him such power, I can't fathom. If only I'd had more time!_

Caught up in his frustrations, he misjudged a leap and bashed his elbow against the trunk of a tree. It came away bruised and covered in sap, and he swore softly but with feeling, halting on the crown of the next tall pine where the light was good enough to inspect it. Normally, his youko form didn't bruise nearly so easily, but he was low on energy, and had been going at top speed. As it was, he was lucky it hadn't broken the skin.

He rubbed the sap off with his claws. Noting the darkening sky, he surmised that it was time to take a rest anyway. If he continued at this rate he would have no energy left should he happen upon an enemy; he also needed to be fit to aid in case Gendou reached the Tantei first.

It was short work to find a moderately safe place to sleep; a collection of moss-blanketed rocks would serve to hide and protect him, and the clearing they were situated in was reasonably defensible. He vaulted down from the pine boughs and curled up under them with a weary sigh.

As he drifted into a wary half-nap, he thought he felt a presence nearby, but as it didn't feel very powerful he dismissed it as nonthreatening and allowed sleep to claim him fully.

He dreamed of black and crimson.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

If someone had flown high up, higher than the clouds and the tallest trees, they might have seen a most curious sight: seven figures, alone or in groups, converging on a single point as if drawn by a force beyond themselves. Some gave off sparks of frantic desperation; some were dim with worry and sorrow; still others glowed with anger and a vindictive desire for revenge.

And if that someone had understood what the meeting of these figures could mean, they might have prayed, right then and there, for a swift end.

* * *

_Cool? Decent? Awful? An abysmal piece of drivel? Please let me know! And just so I'm clear, I fully expect and welcome constructive criticism. I know I'm not the best at plot and pacing, so it's very valuable to me to know what I'm doing wrong. While I may not fix it in this story (though I probably will, being obsessive), it'll help me grow as a writer and hopefully move on to bigger and better fics._

_I wish I'd thought of a way to make more things actually _happen_in this part, but I ended up deciding to save all the really important meetings/events for next chapter, and just leave you hanging with badly-executed foreshadowing. In the next chapter, Hiei's flashbacks should get explained, and so will Kurama's mission, along with an awful lot of those darned unclarified plot points. Thus, the next chapter will be important and elucidating and pivotal, so please don't kill me if it takes forever to post . . ._


	5. And Merry Meet Again

Part 5:  
And Merry Meet Again

_There's one last flashback at the very beginning, so after that I'll explain them, sort of. Hint: pay very, very close attention to the part right after the flashback; it should make a limited amount of sense, and will factor in more later on in the plot. The flashback is the first thing in the chapter, so don't be confused by the fact that the italics continue. Apologies to Kisaru for lying -- this particular flashback is neither funny nor cute. Oh, and because of all the things I promised to include, this is a loooooong chapter._

_For fair warning, there's some Koenma bastardization in this part. Okay, lots of it. But I really do like him, and he has reasons for all the crappy things he did to the Tantei. It's just that . . . (drumroll) . . . they haven't been explained yet! (ducks the barrage of rotten vegetables)_

* * *

_The tiling was smooth and chill beneath his boots, squeaking faintly with each stride. Even that tiniest of sounds echoed like a bell in the unusually, spookily quiet hall before Koenma's office. The oni that normally ran amok through the maze of desks and corridors were subdued -- nearly afraid._

_And all of them were staring at Hiei as if he were the harbinger of the apocalypse._

_It irked him, and he turned to look one in the eye as he passed, giving the bespectacled creature a glare that would have frozen magma. Though it lasted only a second or two, the oni yelped and fell over backwards onto his neighbor, triggering a domino reaction that scattered them around the room in panic. Hiei snorted his derision and ignored them completely thereafter, pacing with stiff arrogance into the office of Reikai's heir._

_The two boys were already there, he noted, and George was nowhere in sight rather than lurking in Koenma's vicinity as per usual. He paid neither of these observations a jot of attention, deeming them unworthy of acknowledgment at present, though his mind filed them into a neat mental cupboard to be examined later on. He came to stand rigidly before Koenma's desk, making certain his aggravation was clear in his stance and expression._

_"What it is now?" he asked, only half-feigning boredom. "This had better be important. I don't have time for any petty missions right now." He let a hand dangle carelessly near the hilt of his katana._

_In the silence that greeted him, his nostrils flared suddenly. Something wasn't right -- he could smell it. Through narrowed eyes he reviewed his earlier observances. Why would George, who was practically grafted to Koenma's skin most of the time, be missing? Why had the oni in their cubicles been so terrified of him?_

_Now he actually _looked _at his two teammates, sharp eyes taking in their grim, taut expressions and white knuckles. They weren't even trying to affect their normal tough-guy stances, nor would they meet his eyes. There was a peculiar air of skewed disbelief about them as well -- one Hiei had only seen among ningens._

_His gaze zipped back to Koenma. "Who died?" he asked frankly._

_The pole-axed look on the baby's face confirmed it even before Yuusuke haltingly answered him._

_"I -- we --" He drew a shuddering breath. "Kurama's ki is gone, Hiei. There's no trace of him, in Ningenkai or -- or in Makai."_

_It was Hiei's turn for shock—like electricity twisting his insides. Kurama? Anyone else -- any demon, any ningen, any god even -- he would have believed, but not Kurama._

_"That's impossible!" he snapped at Koenma, recovering. "You know where he is, he's on one of your pathetic errands! Nothing _you_could send him to would be more than he could handle!"_

_Koenma winced visibly and with real guilt. He was obviously struggling with his next words. "I thought he _could _handle it, Hiei, but it appears I was wrong. I'm sorry. I wish I could have --"_

_"I will not suffer being lied to!" Hiei snarled, cutting him off. "If this is your stupid kami idea of a joke, I'm not amused!" He spat the word 'kami' like a curse. "Maybe if you'd sent the oaf here, _he _might have been killed, but Kurama is far too intelligent and resourceful to be in any danger!"_

_"Stop it, Hiei!" Yuusuke shouted at him, coming within arm's length. There were actual tears on his face. "Do you think we'd invent something like this just to make fun of you? This is hard enough to accept without you calling us all liars!"_

_"I'm not calling you liars, I'm calling you bakas! You're all obviously too stupid to realize it when your weak ningen emotions have overridden your brains! Kurama can't possibly be dead, and the sooner you get that through your thick skulls, the sooner you can start figuring out where he is!"_

_"I'm the ruler of Reikai, Hiei." Koenma's voice, though quiet, sliced through the buzzing echoes of the Jaganshi's last shout, firm and inexorable. "Do you think I wouldn't know?"_

_Those words froze Hiei where he stood, another angry retort withering on his tongue. Koenma kept speaking._

_"Ask Botan if you want; she'll give you the same answer. Kurama wasn't perfect, Hiei, nor was he invulnerable to harm, and it was inevitable that something would happen that he couldn't anticipate. There's nothing I can do for you now except tell you to move on, because he isn't coming back."_

_Each calm, rational syllable gouged a hole in Hiei's chest; he forgot to breathe as the full impact of realization struck like a blow to the gut. His hand slipped from the hilt of his katana to hang lifelessly at his side._

_Of course Koenma would know. Death was what he did._

Then . . . he really is . . .

_He rejected the thought violently, again clutching the hilt, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip and the wrapping digging into his palm. His mind battled the concept as though it were the most reviled of enemies, a craven, twisted creature soiling him with its very essence; he would never accept it. Accepting this meant accepting that he would never again tease the redhead about his ningen admirers, never take shelter in his room during a storm, never fight alongside someone he trusted with his back, never sit through another lecture on why he should tell Yukina that he was her brother. The very emotions he despised as weak made his head throb and his throat constrict at the thought of that acknowledgment._

_That was something he wouldn't -- couldn't -- do._

_Whatever Yuusuke saw in his expression made the boy reach out a hand, almost unintentionally, to touch Hiei's shoulder. The half-koorime felt a sudden spurt of terror, overlaying the leaden feeling; if he allowed that touch, he might lose control and give in to those emotions, disgracing himself and showing weakness._

_He bolted, ignoring the distressed cry that chased him from the office. He felt the prickle of tears in his eyes, the first in uncounted years, and angrily dashed them away before they could crystallize. That anger spread, encompassing the pain, until it was all that he felt._

_Damn Kurama. _Damn _him._ How dare you, fox! _he seethed internally._ How _dare_ you die on one of Koenma's idiotic missions! How _dare_ you!

_The anger built, and with it came grief, and he just ran, no longer knowing or caring where he might be. If he fled fast enough, far enough, maybe -- just maybe -- he could outrun his feelings._

_And so he ran._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was a dream just like all the others; he hadn't known souls could dream. Between visions now, he glided through a halfway place, where he could see his own being and all the dark places it contained. A single thread, stretched thinner than the finest gossamer fiber, anchored him while he floated in the warm, dark water of his memories; yet, two other threads also extended from his soul, reaching out to -- whom?

He could see them in his mind's eye. One, he recognized; the soft, cool drift of ice-blue energy was unmistakable and comforting, one he had known for as long as his memory extended, and that had been at times the only thing keeping him from madness. But the other puzzled him. It was weaker and less bright, flickering in and out in pulses and bringing with it the dreams -- he realized that it was the source of the memories he relived. Its presence felt soothing, like a balm.

He tried to see it better, to touch it and trace it to its origin. A flash of gentle red emanated from it as he reached out, and he saw that something was wrong with it. There was a dark place at its end, where it vanished into nothingness -- into shadow . . . it would soon be gone forever, against its will.

What was it, he wondered? Who was it? What was it for? He searched among those memories for a name --

Then something tore in his mind, and he _knew._

He turned and flung himself back into reality, falling towards the pain of light. Though it was torture beyond any he had ever known, no choice was left to him. His own soul had stolen that away -- there was something he had to do.

Then, after, he could rest.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was just past twilight. The sky was dark blue satin interwoven with threads of metallic silver; but never had mere cloth been so alive with shifting lights, and the static shine of silver had never reflected as many dancing colors as these stars now did. The skies of the Ningenkai had long since been obscured by smog and pollution -- such a nighttime mural was only to be found in Makai, when there were no clouds to hide the perfection that seemed so incongruous for such a violent world.

The fire was burning high but fitfully, as a chill wind did its best to snuff out what little light it afforded, and Yukina sat watching those familiar stars as Kuwabara fed it more of the fuel they had collected that evening. They had camped less than a day from their destination; tomorrow would see them in audience with the koorime elders, if all went well.

Indeed, they would have pressed on but for Kuwabara's stubborn and unexplained insistence on camping in this precise spot, though it was hardly sheltered, nor easily defended should they be set upon. Yuusuke hadn't argued as much as Yukina had come to expect -- even he had learned that it was best to trust Kuwabara's hunches.

Sighing, Yukina set aside her bag of tear gems and inched a few feet away from the fire. While she had become accustomed to the temperatures in Ningenkai, fire bothered her, and she found the familiarity of the snow around her to be much more comfortable. Fire was angry and vengeful, and too bright for her sensitive eyes.

Something caught her attention, and she lifted her face to sniff delicately at the frigid wind. There was a strange scent on the air; she didn't think the others had noticed it (although, looking at her companions' shiny red noses, she doubted they could smell anything at present). As it didn't smell dangerous and she couldn't identify it no matter how she puzzled, she kept it to herself, not wanting to alarm them unnecessarily.

Her stomach was in knots. It had been so long since she'd been home, and she didn't have any illusions about the kind of welcome she was likely to receive. An outcast by choice, gone on a mission to find her forbidden and condemned brother, bringing possibly hostile, ningen outsiders into koorime territory with her, asking an enormous favor of elders she hadn't seen in goodness knows how long(1)? They would be openly scorned at best -- and forced into a battle at worst. Yukina was desperately hoping it wouldn't come to that, placing dubious trust in the diplomatic abilities of two males who where used to solving every problem with a punch in the face and in her own history with her people.

All in all, she felt she was justified in her apprehension.

"Oi, Kuwabara?" Yuusuke said from his seat opposite Yukina. "I'll take first watch."

"Sure," replied Kuwabara absently, mesmerized by the capering flames. His weary eyes made Yukina silently turn a grateful look on Yuusuke, to which he replied with a slight nod and a smile that said he knew how truly out of it Kuwabara was. Half a night's sleep would do him good, and clear his head of any odd thoughts or feelings that might be straining on him. By the time his watch rolled around, he would be in condition to do more than stare dumbly at any approaching youkai.

Then Yuusuke turned to Yukina. "Hey," he said quietly. "Something on your mind?"

The question startled her, and she blinked. "Me? Oh, it's nothing. I'm just worried about our meeting with the elders tomorrow."

"Ah, don't sweat it," he replied, leaning back against one of the large rocks and crossing his arms behind his head. "We've all done enough worrying about something we can't control. You just sleep now." He laid a hand on her shoulder, smiled reassuringly, and tossed a tuft of snow at his other companion. "You too, Kuwabara."

Yukina counted it as a bad sign that the carrot-top was too tired even to fling snow in retaliation; she moved over to sit next to him, snuggling a bit, and saw him blush before she closed her eyes and prepared for sleep.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Hiei," Koenma said. "Hiei!"

There was no response. The fire youkai was sitting in a corner of the prison cell with his back against the wall, staring vacantly into empty space; the utter _absence_ in his half-lidded eyes sent a crawl up Koenma's spine. His arms were limp at his sides, hands curled flaccidly on the smooth floor, and there was a peculiar, eerie sort of half-smile on his face. He seemed to have passed into some kind of trance in which he was unaware of anything except his own internal pain.

Most uncanny of all, his Jagan eye was glowing, a soft but definite blue that showed through the headband and brought out frightening shadows on his face.

When George had reported the state Hiei was in, Koenma had come raging down here in a huff to see for himself, certain the oni had exaggerated. This was clearly not the case. The floor was littered with heaps and scatters of priceless black tear gems, and stains of moisture remained on the Jaganshi's pallid cheeks -- to have produced so many, he had to have been crying nonstop for almost a day. More frightening was the glow of the Jagan; without the youki of a physical demon body, it shouldn't have been able to do anything at all, rendered as inert as Hiei now appeared.

"He's been like that for a while, sir." George leaned over to speak to his ruler. "We haven't been able to get anything out of him since he stopped laughing." He shuddered a bit. "It was really creepy, sir. He was sitting there, laughing his head off and dropping those jewels everywhere, and suddenly he leaned back against the wall, muttered something and was just -- gone."

"This is terrible!" stated the god, disbelief and a touch of panic coloring his voice. "The laughing was bad enough, but I had no idea he was this unstable! He may be the Tantei's last hope -- we can't _afford_ to have him lose his mind now!"

"Just what are we going to do about it?" George sounded rather skeptical that anything _could_ be done.

"I don't know!" Koenma whined. He slumped down in front of the cell door. "I've had no experience in dealing with suicide cases! They usually just go where they're supposed to, but I had to yank him here so we could get him to come back to life! Now I don't know what to _do_ with him!"

The oni shuffled his feet uncertainly. "Well, I'll have someone look into his file; maybe we can find something he'll respond to." He turned and ran down the hall towards Records, obviously grateful to get away from that blank, unnerving stare.

His flunky gone, Koenma, still on his knees, turned to regard the unmoving prisoner, studying him for a long moment. He then reached out and opened the cell door, carefully and deliberately setting the half-koorime free.

There wasn't even a glimmer of reaction. Hiei merely sat there, looking at nothing.

_What could possibly be going through his head to make him like this?_ Koenma silently asked of those vacuous eyes. _It's like he doesn't care if he stays here for all eternity; it's like he isn't_ there_anymore. If I'd known that something like this could push him over the edge, I'd never have made him one of the Tantei, punishment or no punishment . . ._

The pounding of bare feet signaled the oni's swift return. He was empty-handed. "I'm sorry, sir, but his file doesn't have anything in it that could help. It's mostly a description of the time he stole the Koma no Ken and some of his past missions with the Tantei, and there aren't a lot of details about him, mostly because we still don't know very much. He's been very secretive, and has never cooperated with questioning."

"I'm afraid this may be a lost cause." The words were reluctant. "We may just have to send him to his place in Reikai and try to find someone else to help the Tantei."

"But who, sir?" George cringed at the daggered glare he received for his question, and mumbled a hasty apology.

"At least Kurama will be there soon . . ."

At those words, pressure suddenly crackled to life, culminating in a sensation like an internal snap, nearly audible in the small, close cell. It made Koenma's ears pop, and he spun to face Hiei.

"What's going on?"

Slowly, something began to visibly flow into Hiei's eyes. His odd smile vanished and he inhaled sharply, coming back to himself in a process that was somehow hard to watch, and tilted his head to look at the two outside his cell. There was nothing in his expression now that Koenma could read.

As the ruler and his oni stared, stunned, he sat upright. "Where is Kurama?" he asked, his voice containing an odd, indifferent quality.

"Sir, you did it!" George cried happily.

"I did?" Koenma said, puzzled.

"Where is Kurama?" Hiei repeated without an ounce more inflection.

"In the Makai," George supplied helpfully before being bonked by Koenma. He lost his balance and landed with an "Oomph!" as the teenager snapped an order, ignoring the Jaganshi's question.

"Get up, George! Go get his file right away! And bring whoever processed him as well!"

"Yes, sir!" The oni leapt to his feet and sped off down the corridor. Koenma turned his attention back to the prisoner.

"Are you all right?" This seemed an odd thing to say, even to him, but he felt compelled to ask it.

Hiei shook his head. "That is not important. Where is Kurama?"

"Aren't you going to say anything else?" Koenma demanded, edging farther out of the cell as he recalled that the door was still open. He nervously calculated the odds of getting it closed before Hiei could reach him, and was not reassured.

Very calm, very lucid red eyes stared at him. "Kurama needs help." It was not a question; the Jaganshi's voice was clear and strong, and oddly flat in its conviction, as if he were giving an order that could not be disobeyed.

"How do you know -- yes!" Koenma snatched at the opening, recovering his lost equilibrium swiftly. This was his chance to make it work, and if he blew it, he might as well send the worlds to hell by his own hand. "He does!"

"I already said that, fool. Now tell me where he is."

There was no turning back now. He threw everything into this last-ditch effort, wishing he weren't a god so he'd have someone to pray to. "I can help you find him, but the only way for you to help him is to return to life! You have to consent to --"

"I will."

The quiet words caught the godlet in mid-speech. He stared with incredulity at having so quickly gotten what he had hardly dared to hope for, and it took him a moment of floundering to come up with a reply. "You -- you will? I mean, that's good, but I didn't expect --"

And then, abruptly, anger.

Hiei was on him in a movement that must have been twice as fast as even his usual lightning speed. He had Koenma by the collar before the ruler had even seen him twitch, and his eyes were truly on fire. Short as he was, he seemed to tower over the taller princeling, Jagan seething now with a golden aura and teeth bared in a fierce snarl. All hint of listlessness had been erased instantaneously; he was in full demon fury, a killing rage that was frightening to see.

"I said," he hissed, "I will."

And he dropped Koenma in a heap and stalked past him, out of the cell.

"Ow! My tailbone! I've got to stop letting him _do_ that!"

"Are you all right, sir?" George, just returning with another clerk in tow, dashed up. The blue oni pounced on his boss in concern and got a jawful of shoe for his trouble.

"I'm fine, you idiot! Just help me up!" George hurriedly complied, and Koenma straightened his clothes with a smile of satisfaction. "Well. I don't know who it was before, but _that_ is Hiei."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It must have been two hours into his watch that Yuusuke nodded off. He hadn't meant to; the cold was getting to him, or so he rationalized as he groggily started from his doze, unsure what had woken him.

He glanced at Kuwabara and Yukina. They both still slept, looking rather nauseatingly saccharine cuddled up together as they were, and Yuusuke couldn't help but grin. _Well, at least they're still asleep, so no one will know I screwed up._

And then he saw something.

A shape was flitting through the trees, approaching fast. He couldn't quite make out what it was, but an aberrant tingle in the air suggested power -- which suggested danger.

"Kuwabara! Wake up!" He kicked the blue bundle when it did nothing more than groan. "I said wake up!"

"Ow! Urameshi, what are you --"

"Shh!" Yuusuke held up a hand for silence. "We've got a visitor."

The two newly-awakened sleepers were instantly quiet, though Kuwabara slowly rose to his knees in the sound-eating snow. His eyes scanned the surrounding forest until he spotted the shape, and his lips narrowed down to a thin, grim line, tempered with an odd quirk to his eyebrows that looked almost like surprise. Yuusuke grunted, not realizing how like Hiei he sounded. _Why surprise? After all, why should youkai attack us in the middle of the night in Makai? How rude of them; didn't their mothers teach them better than that?_

"This guy feels weird, Urameshi. We should be careful."

Yuusuke nodded. "Get ready," he murmured as the figure came closer. He still couldn't see it properly because of the lack of light -- it also seemed to be the same color as the snow. _A koorime scout?_ He dismissed that. _Nah, coming from the wrong direction. Besides, even koorime need light to see, and this guy apparently doesn't._ He frowned as he realized the advantage that would give the intruder.

It was an eternity as they waited -- but then, wasn't it always? Anticipation traversed his adrenal system with its familiar vibration, and his reiki flickered in impatience, reined in only by caution.

The figure came closer, and closer, and closer, until they could almost see its eyes --

"Rei gun!" he yelled, loosing the bullet with accuracy. It exploded in the figure's face with its familiar blue flash, and the figure dropped soundlessly to the snow, sliding into the darkness.

"Hah! Got him!" Yuusuke crowed, lowering his finger and giving his head a satisfied toss. Yukina put a hand to her mouth, her expression anxious and frightened. Kuwabara stepped forward with uncharacteristic caution to get a closer look at the intruder who lay prone in the shadow of a snowy tree.

He bent over to see its face -- and shrieked.

"Hey!" Yuusuke yelled as his friend fell over backwards onto his rump, an expression of unmitigated terror on his face. "What is it?"

"Th-th-that's impossible!" Kuwabara stammered, his face as white as rice paper. "He can't be!" His pupils were nearly nonexistent and his nostrils were flared like a wild animal's.

"What is wrong with you, Kuwabara?" the brown-eyed detective demanded with badly concealed impatience. "It's not like it's Toguro or anything!" _I really, really, really hope it isn't, anyway . . ._

"It's a ghost!" the carrot-top shouted, scuttling crab-like over a snowbank and falling backwards off the other side with a painful noise. Yukina followed him over with a little squeak of distress.

Yuusuke relaxed minimally. "Of course he's not a ghost, you dumbass. I hit him with my rei gun, so I think that means this guy's pretty solid. Besides, even you can't see ghosts -- I oughta know." Receiving no response save smothered splutters, he sighed and strode over to the fallen figure, peering through the shadows to see its face.

He gasped.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Botan flipped open her communications mirror and hit the button. She was shivering from cold as Koenma's face appeared on her screen.

"What is it, Botan?"

"They've made contact, Koenma. Kurama tried to sneak up on them and got knocked unconscious by Yuusuke's rei gun. He was out for about ten minutes; he's just waking up now."

"What was Yuusuke's reaction?"

"Not good, I'm afraid. He and the other two are having a difficult time dealing, to say the least. I don't think this is going to be pretty -- especially since the first thing Kurama is going to ask them is where Hiei is."

Koenma sighed, the sound coming through as a static whistle. His face was bleak. "Just keep an eye on them, and only interfere if something drastic comes up. I've been working on a solution to our problem, and we may have a chance at making our initial strategy work, so wait for my call before trying anything of your own."

Botan's eyes widened in understanding and she nodded. "Yes, sir. Botan out."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kurama awoke slowly, not realizing h'd been asleep. In fact, the last he recalled, he'd been drawing close to Yuusuke's camp, darting by moonlight through the frozen forest.

Then he groaned, both in realized pain and realized embarrassment. Of course. He'd been neatly felled by Yuusuke's rei gun, and was just recovering from unconsciousness, not sleep. _Small wonder. Why did I try to approach them in the middle of the night, with my ki masked, no less? I suppose it's nothing more than what I deserve for such a foolish move. I'd nearly forgotten how powerful the rei gun truly is._

Stretching kinks from his arms and shoulders, he sat up without opening his eyes, dreading the headache that surely awaited him once snow-glare kicked him the face. His sensitive ears heard breathing, and his nose picked out cold-dampened scents. _Yuusuke and Kuwabara, of course -- but that doesn't smell like Hiei. Yukina?_

He reverted to human form to dim his sight and cracked his eyes open at last, wincing in pain. A simple punch in the nose would have hurt less, but he didn't blame Yuusuke for being paranoid.

The object of his thoughts came into his field of view, sitting down cross-legged in the snow before him. Kurama blinked until the dark-haired boy stopped wavering, then gave him a tired smile. "You needn't have knocked me out, you know; I was quite tired enough to sleep without help."

Yuusuke didn't answer him, only stared at him with flat, emotionless eyes. Kurama slowly let go of his smile, letting a worried frown replace it. "What is it, Yuusuke? I'll admit my arrival is somewhat abrupt, but I have something important to tell you, and my mission for Koenma took an unfortunate second place." Still the boy gave him no response; Kurama began to get anxious. His glance darted around, noting the odd, indecipherable expression on Kuwabara's face and the plain fear on Yukina's. _This can't be normal. What's wrong with them?_ "Where's Hiei?" he asked, attempting to divert the subject a bit, not to mention satisfy his almost desperate desire to know.

The silence following his words was absolutely stifling.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Sir!"

A mauve-colored oni scurried into Koenma's office, skidding to an abrupt halt when confronted with not only his boss, but Hiei as well, leaning against one wall and looking sullen. The clerk swallowed convulsively and doggedly continued with his message. "Sir, we've got a problem!"

"I'm busy right now. Can it wait?"

"Um, not really, sir -- it's about that scout you sent to the classified sector, and he --"

Koenma sat up straight, his expression akin to terrified. "A problem? With _him?_ What kind of a problem?"

"He was found out by the rogue demons, sir!"

"But I would have known if he were dead --" Koenma stopped. "Has he been captured?"

The oni nodded unhappily, glancing at Hiei with nervous eyes. "We think they're using him to track down the other operative, but we don't know very much else."

The kami considered for a while, looking troubled, but then his face cleared. "Thank you, you may go. I'll take care of this shortly." He, too, glanced at Hiei as the messenger gratefully escaped. "Retrieving the scout will be your first priority after you return to life. That'll make it harder for these demons to find the Tantei. Understand?"

Hiei's eyes flashed, but he said nothing. Koenma nodded satisfaction. "Good. Then let's get started."

He did not see the calculating look on Hiei's face as he turned away.

* * *

_(1) I'm having trouble placing this fic in the existing timeline, being as I haven't seen nearly enough of the series. I'm rather embarrassed to admit exactly how little I've really seen -- not even all of the Dark Tournament (basically, I'm following the English release and gleaning additional information from other fanfiction). Yes, I'm aware that I should have known better than to try and B.S. my way through it, but it worked for four chapters, didn't it? In any case, this fic is hereby declared an alternate timeline, in which some, not all, of the events in the original may or may not have taken place. o.o That was convoluted . . ._

_I am fully aware that this is the third chapter in which Yuusuke and the others _almost _get to see the koorime elders; I confess to stalling for time so I can research how I want to do this. I also know this is the first chapter that I have a good reason for them not to get there yet. Next chapter, I promise, the koorime elders will factor in. I make lots of "Next chapter, I promise! . . ." statements, don't I? I also didn't quite explain Kurama's mission, but it'll be clear enough later on._

_Hiei got to freak out Koenma again! That's the second time he's grabbed him by the neck and scared the poo out of him. Who wants to see him do it again? I'm taking votes! _


	6. Ice Dance

Part 6:  
Ice Dance

_Well, here's Chapter 6. This chapter's another long one. Sorry it took forever; I've been scheduled at work every waking moment. It'll be better from now on, though, because I'm no longer working at that evil job. In any case, I'm genuinely grateful for the support I've been getting; this is the first fic I've ever written that I've continued this long, and it's all thanks to you, the reviewers. Without you guys, I'd have lost interest in this story long ago. Thanks so much!_

_Not much to talk about, except that more stuff gets clarified. See, I'm slowly explaining stuff as I go along, like I promised. And, by the way, there will be a dream in italics; it is _not _a flashback._

* * *

Reality . . . was this reality? Perhaps he was dreaming, still locked in a stupor of servitude, still waiting for the weary sun to rise on another weary day of subterfuge and frustration. That reality seemed far more potent and tangible than what he was confronted with now. Yet the light had already burgeoned over the lustrous, snow-veiled horizon in the time that had elapsed since Yuusuke had begun to speak, and Kurama's mind purled like churning water, refusing to settle into any form of complacency. This -- this was unimaginable, but he had to be imagining it; it couldn't be really _real._

_Myself presumed dead, Koenma confirming it, and . . . Hiei . . ._

Memories overtook him, mercilessly replaying, battering him with the knowledge that the happy times they represented would never come again. Hiei, dead by his own hand -- in a way, it was what Kurama had feared most ever since they had become friends, and now he had caused it to be true.

_This . . . is my fault._

He looked up at Yuusuke, resisting the insane, triple urges of laughter, tears and rage; Yuusuke stared back at him with eyes made black by the tale he had told, watching the kitsune for -- what? Damned if Kurama knew. Kuwabara and Yukina sat just in sight at the edge of camp, leaving Kurama and Yuusuke to talk alone at Yuusuke's request; he could feel their eyes on him as well, and felt a need to say something, _anything._ And yet he was unable to utter a word in this numb state, where his mind floated just an inch above his body and refused to return until he convinced it this wasn't happening.

Yuusuke finally broke the silence. "We missed you, Kurama," he said quietly. "We all missed you, Hiei most of all."

Kurama felt a lance of guilt and grief, unable to meet his friend's eyes as iron bands constricted his chest. "Yuusuke, I --" His attempt at speech ended there as his airway closed itself off abruptly. Shock had stolen coherent thought, and he wasn't even sure what he had been about to say.

The raven-haired detective put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to say anything, Kurama. I know you didn't know. Koenma lied to you, just like he lied to us." He spat Koenma's name with a hatred Kurama hadn't heard in a long time -- not since the death of Genkai at the Ankoku Buujuutsukai. His grip tightened and his voice began to rise as he spoke again. "That son of a bitch. This is all _his_ fault, _he_ screwed us all over, and we _trusted_ him! I've been feeling responsible for everything, and it's because of _him_ that Hiei --"

"Don't," Kurama interrupted him softly. "I can't -- I can't imagine why he would have . . ." Tears appeared in his leaf-green eyes and made them bright. "This doesn't seem real," he whispered._Not Koenma's fault. Not his. Mine._

The hand abruptly withdrew, and Yuusuke looked guiltily away. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "We've had a lot of time to -- adjust, and I shouldn't have dumped it on you so fast. I know you two were close -- kisama!" He punched the yielding snowbank, leaving a foot-deep hole in its crystalline crust. "None of this is coming out right!"

Kurama winced; though his own grief made breathing an ordeal, for Yuusuke, this was like ripping open an old, half-healed scar. He regained control with an iron will, forcing down the tears. _I shouldn't make this harder for him. I'm youko; I don't have to give in to my emotions, and he needs the stability more than I._ "There is no need for that, Yuusuke. It's difficult for both of us. I just wish I'd been here, or that I could have known."

Yuusuke gave him a startled glance, obviously surprised by his sudden coherence, and after a moment warily shifted subjects. "Where_were_ you, anyway? All we knew is that it was a mission."

Kurama's expression was something less than a smile. "There is not much to tell."

"I wanna hear it anyway," Yuusuke persisted, seeming more like his old self.

"Very well then." Kurama drew in a long, slow breath through his nose, releasing it in a loud sigh. His voice, when it emerged, was a harsh whisper. "I've been in the -- employ, shall I say, of two youkai named Donari and Gendou. They were, up until a little over two months ago, the lowest class of demon, barely fit to survive in the Makai. They were lucky to have lived long enough to form a partnership."

"Employ, huh? Sounds fun. But why bother with them if they weren't even a blip on the radar?"

Kurama gave a dry chuckle. "They became, quite suddenly, a very large 'blip,' Yuusuke. Do you recall the killings near the eastern sector of Makai? Hiei spoke of them before I left."

"You mean the ones Koenma told us not to bother investigating?" His eyes widened as sudden understanding struck. "Inari . . . that was them? Gendou and Donari? All those massacres?" Yuusuke shuddered, then stiffened as another thought occurred to him. "Koenma said not to worry about it -- that was because he was sending you, wasn't it?"

A nod. "Because Gendou and Donari had gone from negligible to such high-level youkai, Koenma was worried that they might become arrogant and attack the Reikai. Moreover, he was certain that somewhere still in the Makai was whatever had made them so powerful in the first place, and that it might well be in the worst of hands."

He paused before continuing. "I was sent to be their slave, to gain their trust and to perhaps discover the source of their power. However, because of your arrival in the Makai, I was forced to leave before I could learn much of use. The only thing I know for sure is that they are perhaps the most dangerous youkai currently alive; they have virtually no knowledge of either the Reikai or the Ningenkai, though it is rumored that they have spies in both, and they know no more than rumors of the Tantei as we are."

The fox gave his companion a wry, mournful glance. "I don't think you realize how significant that might be. As powerful as they are, even I could not hope to stand against even one of them for long, but this lack of knowledge could prove their only exploitable weakness.

"The information they have is very much out of date; I suspect the underlings they have acquired as spies are deliberately omitting key facts, trying to make them more vulnerable. I seriously doubt that they even know your name, as they referred to us merely as a group of exceptionally strong ningens, which gives us the advantage of surprise. However, it may not last long -- they are bound to find out sooner or later."

There was an interim of silence then, during which Yuusuke assimilated all of this information. When he spoke again, it was the question Kurama had feared most.

"Why didn't Koenma tell us? Why would he hide something like this?"

Kurama glanced at him, his eyes full of pain. "I don't know, Yuusuke," he replied quietly. "I only wish I'd been aware enough to see it sooner. I could have come back; I could have --"

"Don't you dare," his companion interrupted, forcing Kurama to look him in the eyes. "Don't you dare blame yourself. There was no way you could have known. Besides, you know how hard it was to talk Hiei out of anything." He chuckled sardonically. It didn't quite sound like a laugh. "If you'd shown up and told him not to, he'd probably have done it anyway, just to be an ass."

That struck Kurama through the heart, but he managed a wan almost-smile for Yuusuke's benefit. "Perhaps you're right. I just can't help but think that I might have done _something_ to prevent it."

"I know how you feel. Trust me -- I know. There hasn't been a day when I haven't thought of something that could have saved him, if only I'd known."

The mutual silence that came after lasted for a good while, long enough that Kuwabara and Yukina began to edge closer to see if the two were finished talking. Yuusuke gave them a 'one minute' sign and turned back to the kitsune. "We're going to see the koorime elders today. Are you coming with us?"

"Certainly," Kurama replied, a shade startled. "Why would I not?"

"Thanks," Yuusuke said with obvious relief. "We could definitely use you; neither of us --" he jerked his thumb to include Kuwabara in that statement "-- is any good at talking things out, and it could get pretty messy with the elders if Yukina can't smooth things over."

"Are you talking about me, Urameshi?" Kuwabara demanded from across the clearing.

Kurama managed a genuine smile at that, and nodded affirmatively. "I'll help as much as I can. Be assured of that." Then he frowned. "But you've been up all night; are you sure you don't want to sleep first, and see them when you're not so tired?"

"You do have a point," the boy conceded, glancing over at the other two party members. "Oi, you two, is it all right if we go see the elders later tonight? We need to get some sleep."

"Uh, sure, that's fine, I guess," Kuwabara called back, after watching Yukina for assent, which she haltingly gave.

"Then let's do that. I'll stand first watch."

"No, Yuusuke, let me. I have -- things to think about."

Yuusuke searched his expression, and did not argue, only nodded. He got up, and went to settle by the now-dim campfire, leaving the redhead alone in the creeping light of dawn.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Walking down unfamiliar, smooth-floored corridors in Reikai's palace, Hiei was beginning to have serious misgivings.

He had been wondering for some time exactly how Koenma planned to restore his life. He had been dead for days -- weeks? His sense of time seemed to have departed with his breath, but he guessed that at least five or six days had gone by. A body, even a youkai's, would certainly begin to decay in that amount of time.

Then, listening to Koenma's stream of babble, he heard a passing reference to 'stasis', and felt a flash of anger. They'd been keeping his body preserved, expecting him to cave, had they? And what was worse, he had. His pride smarted, stung by his weakness of will.

But the sense of urgency that had prodded him to agree now pushed against his mind, screaming that all this was taking too long. He didn't have_time_ to wait around Reikai while his body realigned itself -- that could take days or even weeks, and the premonition of imminent danger refused to be stifled. He was becoming more convinced, with each moment, that if he waited that long, he would be too late; he didn't know how he knew, but the certainty of it was bone-deep.

_It all comes down to choice,_ he reflected sardonically. His first choice, to die, had boxed him into a corner. _I can either go through with my return to life and be too late to do anything, or I can escape now and risk being unable to do anything anyway. I see Inari's sense of humor hasn't improved since I was alive._ He already found it easy to think of his life in the past tense.

Koenma, preceding him down the hall, stopped at a door and turned around. "This is where your body's being kept. We'll have to take it back to Ningenkai before you can be resurrected."

Hiei snorted. "Why Ningenkai? Can't you let me have a shred of dignity about this whole business?"

The toddler gave him a disgusted look that said it should be obvious. "Because that's where you died, and that means it's the only place where you can be brought back to life."

This was news to Hiei, who did not deign to reply. He waited with as much patience as he had left while Koenma pulled out a key and inserted it into the heavy brass lock, pulling the door open. "Follow me," Koenma said, and they went in.

The stasis room, as it turned out, was a most singular place. There were no lights, and yet there _was_ light, coming from nowhere Hiei could see; the walls of the oddly ovoid room were a queer, off-colour white that reminded him of eggshells. In the center of the room was a table, and on it a pallet.

There Hiei's body was laid out lengthwise, a strange humming coming from it that resonated along his every nerve. The body was dressed in Hiei's customary black cloak, with his katana in its sheath lying detached next to the place where it ought to be belted to the waist. The eyes were closed, the face peaceful -- and covering one wrist and hand, clearly visible in the merciless, sourceless light, was a latticework of thin red scars.

That sight hit Hiei harder than he could ever have expected. The body lying there didn't look like him -- it was a prison he had escaped, and yet he felt drawn to it. He froze, torn in an instant between an instinctive, soul-deep yearning to be merged with his empty vessel, and a revulsion almost like terror that welled up in his throat like bile.

He vividly recalled his first few moments of death, hovering in the black of Ningenkai's night and looking down at the pitiful, tearstained form that had lain so still in the darkness, blood gleaming wetly in the wan illumination of the moon. It hadn't seemed so real, then; he had felt little else besides an aching relief, knowing that it was finally over, and a strange sense of shame. Now it hit him like his own Kokuryuha -- and fear triumphed over longing.

_I -- can't go back!_

Oblivious to the youkai's discomfiture, Koenma struck up his monologue again. "By my calculations, your body and your soul should be realigned in about seventy-two hours. Since your companions are all busy right now, we'll have to cheat a little; I can change some of my own energy into youki that is compatible with yours, so I'll be transferring the life energy to you myself. This does mean I'll have to kiss you, but I hope you won't fault me for the necessity of --"

Turning around to face Hiei, he broke off suddenly. He was talking to an empty room.

Hiei heard the alarm being raised as he fled, but he was already out of the palace and heading for the portal(1) that would take him to Makai -- and to Kurama.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Yuusuke was of the opinion that the only reason the koorime "escort" hadn't attacked them outright was that Yukina was with them. The two females were surly and hostile towards everyone else, acting as if the Tantei would backstab them any second, and though they were hardly civil to Yukina, at least they didn't growl every time she moved.

He glanced again at the scouts. They were dressed far differently from Yukina, in short white tunics that bared their long legs and with hair hacked functionally short, arrow quivers across their backs to accompany bows that had been drawn since they had spotted Yuusuke and his group. They would have presented next to no challenge for him -- but he wasn't about to fight them.

He had long ago decided that this was the stupidest thing he had ever elected to do in his life, both before and after his resurrection. Sure, suicide moves were his specialty, and he made a hobby out of risking his neck for trivial reasons, but he usually stood a good chance at accomplishing whatever goals he had set. Anything that brute force could solve, he considered as good as done.

However, this was an entirely different matter. This required tact, skill, and quick, smooth thinking and talking. It wasn't as if he could just punch the elders out, though it might be satisfying to try; he had to admit, to himself if to no one else, that he was terrified of botching things up.

_It's just a routine mission,_ he attempted to tell himself, but it wasn't working; something that could make Koenma so nervous was on par with some of his first big cases, such as the menace of the Four Beats of the Youma. That was not reassuring.

Now, as they approached Yukina's village, he became quite sure that he ought to have insisted on her going it alone. He had briefly broached the subject and braced himself for the inevitable, which had come in the form of Kuwabara's violent protest and Yukina being unable to get a word in. Yuusuke thought sourly that if she'd been allowed to talk, she would probably have agreed with him, but by now it was a very moot point.

Kurama's presence was the only thing stopping him from attempting to escape his near-hopeless situation. The kitsune was unfailingly suave and persuasive, and if all else flopped he could probably filch the item from under the koorime's noses without them ever noticing. As such, Yuusuke was perfectly ready to sit back and let him take care of it.

_Interesting how I just fall right into the old habit of relying on him to back me,_ Yuusuke reflected. _It's like he was never gone -- or at least, kinda like that. More like he was just gone on a trip or something, and we'd expected him back all along._

Then again, he hadn't ever really gotten _out_ of that habit; every discussion he had had with Kuwabara before the youko's return had been laced with intermittent pauses, as Yuusuke stopped talking and waited for Kurama to offer advice or make a comment. Those intervals had echoed emptily then, but now that he was back they were again filled, and it was as natural as breathing.

His thoughts had carried him all the way beyond the village boundary, and he paused in them to look around.

The koorime settlement itself was surprisingly simple, the dwellings unobtrusive and elegant without sacrificing comfort or practicality; the forest was such an integral part of the construction and atmosphere that they might as well have lived in the trees themselves. It all managed to look sophisticated and yet rustic, perfectly designed and yet haphazardly spaced—the resulting sense of anachronism made Yuusuke's head hurt, though that might have been partially due to cold and fatigue. None of them had slept overmuch that day.

There were no koorime about save the ones leading them, which he found hardly surprising considering the hatred for men these apparitions harbored, but the overall effect was of a ghost village -- deserted and creepy.

It became obvious that they were headed for the largest structure at what appeared to be the village's central square, or at least central clearing. _Huh. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that's where the elders are. Well, here goes._ Yuusuke squared his shoulders and strode boldly where he was led, walking without an ounce of hesitation into the building.

He almost stopped short as a blast of cold air slapped him in the face; it was even colder inside than outside, if such was possible. The ceiling was high and domed, with cleverly constructed arches of ice supporting it, making it seem overall to be more spacious than its plain exterior had hinted. Opaque ice panels sectioned off part of the main structure, creating an atrium effect. Yuusuke shivered. The koorime looked so human; for some reason he had expected their architecture to be somewhat less -- well, alien. Moreover, the use of ice as a permanent building material made him nervous -- it looked far too fragile to be holding as much weight as it was.

The two koorime escorting them proceeded to the partition and halted, turning to flank it like genuine door guards. Yuusuke blinked, but wisely elected to say nothing; one of them raised an imperious hand and rapped once on the pane before her. A tone like a bell thrummed dully through the air, and Yuusuke realized that this antechamber had been specifically designed for that effect. Then a door-shaped opening seemed to melt out of the ice, and he forgot to be reserved and stared. _This stuff is amazing. I didn't know you could do so many different things with just ice._

He glanced at Yukina, who was looking suspiciously misty-eyed, as the last ringing echoes faded from the room. _I hope she and Kurama can get us through this. If not, we're so screwed it isn't even funny. I hate to think what'll happen if we can't get that artifact back._

One of the koorime glanced at them with eyes as cold as the room. "If you'll follow us, please?" the scout said, directly to Yukina, looking past the males as if they didn't exist. Kuwabara stiffened at the implied insult, making as if to move forward and stopping at Kurama's restraining hand on his shoulder.

Yuusuke didn't bother watching his two teammates any longer; taking a deep, slow breath, he followed Yukina as she in turn followed her fellow koorime through the doorway -- and he halted.

He had expected (there was that word again) the remainder of the building to be one huge, echoing, intimidating room, perhaps with pillars and intricate ice carvings to enhance the effect; this room was smaller than the entryway and unequivocally bare. A semi-circle of knee cushions were placed against the back wall, a low table in the center, and on those cushions sat seven stately koorime.

Yuusuke was abruptly tongue-tied. He had had a sketchy sort of speech planned out, but he couldn't recall a word of it. Panic began to rise in his throat as the women stared at him coolly, appraising him. _Come on, Yuusuke, snap out of it! This is the crucial point! You can't afford to screw it up!_

Just as something, probably the _wrong_ thing, was about to claw its way out of his throat, Yukina stepped up and executed a graceful, low bow. "Elders," she said respectfully. "I have come to ask a favor."

The center of the seven replied, in a deep, feminine voice, "Yukina, Hina's daughter. You bring men into our village, a thing that is against our laws. By what right do you ask indulgence?"

The black-haired Tantei saw her flinch slightly -- she'd been expecting this, no doubt. "I had no choice, honored Elders," she said, and to her credit, her voice did not waver. "They were sent to accompany me by the great Koenma-daiyo, son of Enma-sama, ruler of the Reikai. It is on his behalf that I ask this boon."

Yuusuke held his breath as they appeared to consider this, exchanging mysterious glances among themselves though not speaking. He felt slightly relieved that he hadn't had to take the initiative; indeed, he might not have to at all. Kurama was there as backup for Yukina if she needed it. He looked over at the redhead -- Kurama seemed utterly unperturbed.

_That's a relief. If he's not worried, things'll be fine. I just hope he knows what he's doing, 'cause_ I _sure as hell don't have a clue._

After an eternity during which Yuusuke began to wonder how long it was possible to go without air, one of the elders spoke again, this time the one on the leftmost end. "Very well, Yukina. You may ask, though compliance is by no means assured."

Yuusuke's breath whooshed out, just short of audibly, and he gulped more air as his starved lungs complained. No one appeared to notice, though Kurama's eyebrow quirked as he glanced over.

"There is an artifact belonging to the Reikai that Koenma-daiyo believes is in your possession. He merely asks that this artifact be returned to him."

"And what is this artifact of which you speak?"

Here Yukina stalled, unsure of what to say, and Kurama stepped forward. "If I may, honored Elders," he said smoothly. "I realize that you have little love for men, but the honored Yukina-san is not fully aware of the details. Will you allow me to speak on her behalf?"

The center koorime arched a delicate brow, somehow conveying vast, expressive distaste. "And you are?"

To Yuusuke's surprise, the calm, composed redhead almost seemed to wilt a little under her gaze, and his voice, when he finally spoke, was defeated. "I am called Shuiichi, esteemed Elder," he replied, speaking directly to her in response rather than the group of them as a whole and using his human name rather than the proper one. "I am in the employ of the great Koenma-daiyo and his exalted father, Enma-sama." He paused once more, then sighed heavily. "I humble myself before you in my unworthy state, and ask forgiveness for the temerity of my request. I withdraw it."

The detective nearly choked. _Withdraw! What the hell does he mean, withdraw! We _need _him, dammit!_

But that response seemed to placate the elders, and after another silent conference the third from the left replied, "You shall be permitted to speak, but only on those things that Yukina cannot."

Yuusuke finally relaxed fully as Kurama curtly related the particulars. _If he can maneuver them into letting him talk so easily, he's got his work cut out for him. Thank the gods._

He let what followed pass largely unnoticed as he cast about with his gaze, trying to see if the artifact might be in this room. He trusted Kurama to handle things from there.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kurama, on the other hand, was quite perturbed, contrary to Yuusuke's assessment. He had so little to work with that it made even him nervous -- if Koenma had told them how the koorime had come into possession of the artifact, or even hinted at its appearance, he might have been more confident, but this was a dance of words that left him precariously close to slipping up. Protocol was of the utmost importance here, deference an art, placation and flattery interweaving like melody with harmony.

Keeping up the conversation, he activated multitasking skills long unused and began to cast about with his gaze for objects that could possibly be their target, relying on minute muscle control to make each eye movement almost imperceptible. He immediately ran up against two problems: one, he didn't have the slightest clue what to look for, and two, there didn't seem to be anything in the room at all besides them and the elders.

_So -- perhaps_ they _have it._

He studied the women as unobtrusively as possible. They weren't _exact_ clones of one other, he noted; there were subtle differences, although he supposed that could be because they had made different choices in life. The one on the far left end had angular shadows in her cheeks, and looked worn around the edges, as if she were under too much stress; the one next to her seemed less noticeable in an odd sort of way; the third from the left had softer eyes and seemed nearly as gentle as Yukina. Each one had a remote variation that made them easier to identify as individuals -- but the one in the center was the one that caught his attention.

The youngest-looking one of the seven, she reminded him of Yuusuke's friend Keiko in a strange way, though this powerful woman was no young girl. She wore the same fine kimono as the others, a combination of silver and powder-blue with a lovely scarlet obi, but around her neck was a necklace; the cord looked like woven silver, and the pendant was a half-globe of faceted amber that seemed curiously burnt and ragged around the edges.

_Ah. There it is -- I can feel its power now that I've seen it. Excellent._

With an invisible smirk, he turned his full attention on his words, and the negotiation began in earnest.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Koenma let loose a ripe oath that made George's eyes go wide and threw his remote control across the office. It struck the wall with a satisfying _swack_ and clattered to the floor, where it was instantly forgotten as the godling cast about for something else to fling in his ire.

"I'M SICK OF THIS!" he hollered for the third time, his voice cracking as it hit volumes several decibels above its normal capacity. He knew he'd have a sore throat for weeks after this tirade, but at the moment he didn't care. "I'm SICK of ALWAYS being DISOBEYED! I'm the KAMI here, you'd think I'D know best, but Enma forbid anyone actually LISTEN to me!"

His questing hands found yet another miscellaneous object, which joined the rapidly growing collection of banged-up odds and ends on the floor by the far wall.

"I FINALLY get him to agree, and then he RUNS OUT ON ME! How am I supposed to save the worlds if EVERYONE keeps DOING that!" With that, Koenma slumped down in his office chair, energy spent for the moment, and saw George edge closer tentatively. "George," he whined, "do you have any ideas? I'm all out right now."

"You mean you're actually asking for my opinion, sir?" The oni sounded genuinely shocked by the notion.

"Unfortunately, I'm currently that desperate. Do you have any ideas or not?"

George considered. "Well, why don't you just bring him back to life anyway? I mean, if his body is realigned and the life energy is donated, why does it make a difference if he wants to or not?"

Koenma glared. "If it didn't make a difference, do you think I would have spent all that time trying to convince him to agree? Life energy and alignment don't mean a thing if the will to live doesn't exist. Haven't you ever heard of people willing themselves to death?"

"Well, sort of . . ."

"Well, a person who's coming back to life has to _will_ himself back, and I can't do it for him." He sighed. "Hiei's just too stubborn. He'll never come back now."

"If I may ask, sir, why _is_ he so important, anyway?" asked George inquisitively. "If Kurama and Yuusuke are working together, can't they handle things?"

This was the last straw, the cap to a truly terrible day.

"DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND _ANYTHING!"_ Koenma exploded at his personal clerk, spittle making arcs across the room. "Those two youkai Kurama was working for are DANGEROUS! Even WITH Hiei, the Tantei might not be able to handle them alone, and if they lose then ALL THREE WORLDS ARE SCREWED!"

The oni gaped, eyes as big as saucers, and nodded vigorously to show that no further bombardment was necessary. Koenma, however, was not mollified.

"And it's all HIEI'S FAULT!"

_SWACK._

_Beep._

"Sir, your mirror is going off!"

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It seemed an age before Kurama finally slowed, his pulse automatically quieting in response to his change of pace. He halted near a large tree and waited for the others to catch up.

Yuusuke came into view first, breath huffing out in little intermittent puffs of vapor like a ningen steam engine. The boy skidded to a stop, creating long furrows in the slushy snow, and immediately put his back to the nearest tree-trunk, sliding down to sit in the wet and focus on catching his breath. Just behind him were Kuwabara and Yukina; the former dragged the latter along by her hand, as she seemed to be frozen in a state of static horror and disbelief and was incapable of autonomous movement. They, too, sat and panted for air.

"Well," Yuusuke said, still breathing hard, "that was exciting." He tossed a glance at Kuwabara. "She awake yet?"

"Shut up, Urameshi!" Kuwabara hollered at him. "She's upset, okay? We just stole something from her elders!"

"Well they wouldn't give it to us, so what were we _supposed_ to do?"

"I don't know! Something _else!"_

Kurama grinned openly at the two bickering fighters, who were regaining their normal oxygen intake far more quickly this way than by just sitting, and clenched his clawed fist around the small amber object. In truth, he was rather pleased with the way the theft had gone off; he would have liked to have more time to plan it, but all in all it had been most effective.

Yuusuke, of course, had provided him with a much-needed distraction -- though Kurama regretted the demolishing of that lovely ice architecture. Thankfully, the property damage had been minimal, considering the circumstances. He had taken advantage of the confusion to purloin the necklace from the elder's neck without her even registering his presence, and they had escaped with all due haste, pursued by a pack of angry, bow-wielding archers.

Though his youko side preened with glee at the success, his more diplomatic half was still sighing over the necessity. All had gone well, until he had named the specific object -- and discovered that it had been a peace-gift from a powerful demonness. As such, the panel of elders had unanimously agreed it could not be parted with, and all his attempts at renegotiation had been for naught. A desperate glance at Yuusuke, and, well -- that was how it had gone.

"WELL IT'S TOO LATE NOW!" Yuusuke roared, cutting off further protest and incidentally echoing Kurama's thoughts. "There's no way to go back and fix it, so we might as well just take the thing to Koenma so we can all go home!" As Kuwabara lapsed into sullen silence, the coal-haired detective turned to Kurama. "Do you still have your communication mirror on you? Mine got snow in it and I think it's busted."

Kurama nodded woodenly, mind now caught up in a very different train of thought. _Koenma._ He snarled inwardly, youko memories offering him many methods of revenge, all suitable for traitors of the highest degree; he had to force them down, remind himself that it was not that simple, that he couldn't just kill or torture Koenma for what he had done. _I'm not going back there. Never. If I go back, I'll kill him._

"Whoa, whoa, did I say something wrong?"

Yuusuke's voice brought him back to sanity, and he realized that his fists were clenched as if he were about to rip into his friend. "I'm sorry," he said. "Here." He handed Yuusuke the mirror, steadfastly ignoring the puzzled concern directed his way.

There was a slight beep as the mirror was flipped open. "Hey Botan, you there?"

"I'm not Botan, you ignoramus. What is it now?"

Yuusuke blinked into the screen. "Koenma? Since when do you answer the mirror?"

"Stop wasting my time and just tell me what you want!"

"Oi, chill out, I was just asking. We've gotten that magical thingy of yours back. At least, we think so."

"Good!" Slightly surprised delight had entered the highly irritable voice coming through over the tiny speaker. "What's it look like?"

"A shiny yellow jewel thing. That's the right thing, right?" Warning crept into Yuusuke's tone, as if daring Fate to screw them over once more.

"Of course it is! You've done well -- bring it back to me at once! Botan will be with you shortly."

"Can do. Be there in a bit." His voice changed abruptly, becoming steely hard. "And then, we'll talk."

Yuusuke closed the communicator with a soft click, cutting off the startled yelp, and turned to hand it back to Kurama.

Kurama wasn't paying attention; instead, he stared into Yuusuke's eyes so intensely that the youngster flinched back. "I'm not going with you, you know," he said, heading off the inevitable question.

"Say_what?"_ Kuwabara interjected. He was ignored.

Yuusuke instantly recognized that he was serious. "But can you afford not to?"

Kurama tossed his head, his youko half projecting utter disdain. "Koenma can punish me as he likes -- _if_ he can catch me. He betrayed me, Yuusuke, and I do not take betrayal lightly."

A nod. "I understand. Just try to stay in touch, all right?"

"I will." Kurama let his eyes and his expression soften just the tiniest fraction; he would miss the close, easy companionship. "Be well, Yuusuke. Make sure my kaasan doesn't worry."

And with that, he vanished into the frozen forest, leaving not even a footmark in the snow to show that he had ever been in the clearing.

Night was falling.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was a distinctly surreal experience, flying over the forests of the Makai like some fantastic, invisible bird. Few of the youkai he encountered were able to sense his presence at all, and none did more than look over their shoulders nervously as if feeling an unexplained draft. He passed places both familiar and foreign on his way.

It was just like his life in the Makai: forever watching his back, scanning with his senses for pursuit, flitting about with all his speed and agility and never staying in one place for long. That he did not require sleep was an asset; that he fled from his Reikai prison rather than other youkai, of no consequence. The same instincts that had availed him well in life did likewise now.

It bothered him somewhat that he seemed to be skulking for nothing -- as yet there had been no sign that he was being followed or tracked. Then again, that monitor in Koenma's office might make it a moot point; Hiei had no idea whether it could home in on him if his precise location was not known. He chose to believe it could not, and continued to keep up his erratic path to throw off his (literally) phantom pursuers.

One facet of being dead was irking him, however -- his inability to sense ki. This handicap forced him to systematically search every inch of forest, cutting into precious time that he did not have to spare, and he grew more irritated by the hour. _Where_ is _that blasted fox? Of all the times for him to be finally hiding himself properly --_ Not to mention that the thrice-damned forest seemed a lot smaller when viewed from above than it actually was.

Something -- he could only call it an instinct -- caused him to slow, then stop, hovering over a dense thicket of snow-blanketed pine trees. It was well into the night by now. This was terrain he knew all too well; koorime country. _He would be_ here _of all places,_ Hiei grumbled, swooping down low to phase through the canopy.

Kurama was asleep beneath a tall tree, curled up catlike in the hollow created by the tree's root system. A stray beam of moonlight that managed to pierce the thick cover played on his silver tresses, and his ears twitched in his sleep like a kitten's.

Hiei stared at the slumbering kitsune for a long time, watching each intake of breath, each quirk of the fuzzy ears, each minute movement that signalled life. A strange emotion kept him immobile. It was as if he were suddenly filled with intense happiness for no reason, and moving might fracture it like pressure on too-thin ice.

Finally, shaking his head and smiling faintly, he settled onto the ground cross-legged beside his once-companion. "Hello, fox," he whispered, and plunged into Kurama's dream world.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

_Formless flashes coalesced in his vision, forming a soft, rosy brilliance that was not light; he couldn't be certain what it was. It felt comforting in an obscure way. He smiled as calm descended like a fog._

_Then things changed. The not-light began to shift, into true light -- into sunlight. Trees waved to the motion of a cool breeze, casting dappled shadows on the downy grass, and the odd songbird let loose a gay trill into the fragrant air of high noon._

_Kurama blinked. He was in the park._

_"You look lost, fox."_

_He spun, looking about for the owner of the voice, and spotted a dark-clad figure leaning casually against the trunk of a shady tree. "Hiei!"_

_The Jaganshi smirked, pushing away to step into the sunlight. He was dressed in his customary black cloak, but his katana was absent from his side. "I see your gift for the obvious is intact."_

_Kurama ran to him, heart bursting with joy, reaching out to grip his shoulder -- and stopped, his outstretched hand hovering in midair as he realized. "This is a dream, isn't it?" He let the hand drop, struggling with his emotions. It seemed so real, as if at any moment, Yuusuke would appear and tell him it had all been an elaborate practical joke; that Hiei wasn't dead after all._

_Hiei shrugged indifferently. "So what if it is? I'm here, aren't I?"_

_Kurama paused, remembering what Yuusuke had told him of spirits and dreams._This is really Hiei, then. _"Yes," he replied simply, gentle tears stinging his eyes even as he smiled. "I've missed you more than you can know."_

_"And -- I you," Hiei replied quickly, as if getting the words out of the way as fast as possible, a faint blush decorating his pale face. He looked away awkwardly for a moment, and Kurama had to resist the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to embrace him._ Dead or not, he probably wouldn't appreciate it.

_"Yuusuke misses you as well," he said instead. "Even Kuwabara -- and especially Yukina. She still does not know."_

_Hiei grunted, but his gaze softened. "Hn. Just as well." He gave Kurama an abrupt, piercing look, then asked carefully, "How are you?"_

_This was so banal, so utterly un-Hiei that the kitsune almost took a step back, studying the youkai uncertainly before answering, "I'm well, more or less. What -- what about you?"_

_"Well enough for being dead." Hiei actually laughed. "It's not quite what I was hoping for, but not too bad. I should have asked Yuusuke about it first."_

_He said it so cavalierly that Kurama flinched and dropped his gaze, tears clogging his throat. He wanted desperately to ask Hiei why, to know the reason for his friend's self-murder, but was afraid of the answer he might receive. He was terribly certain that it was his fault for leaving, and he couldn't bear to hear those words of condemnation from Hiei's lips._

_The half-koorime seemed to read his thoughts, and snorted derisively, startling Kurama into looking up at him. "Stop blaming yourself, baka. It had nothing to do with you. I was sick and tired of being alive, and having to be around the fool constantly didn't help; I could just as easily have killed him instead, but everyone seemed to think that was a bad idea." He laughed again, his tone acquiring a ring of self-mockery. "It turns out it would have landed me in jail either way."_

_Words made it past the lump in Kurama's throat. "Jail? What do you mean?"_

_"Koenma had me thrown in Reikai prison until I agreed to return to life." His voice dripped venom. "I considered killing him, but it didn't seem worth the effort."_

_"Then -- you're going to come back?"_

_Hiei glared at him in disgust. "Do you really think I'd do _that_after all the trouble I went through to die? Don't be an idiot. I escaped."_

_Burgeoning hopes fluttered and died, replaced by a deeper sadness and some alarm. "You could be sentenced to eternity for breaking jail, Hiei! It isn't safe for you to be here -- they'll catch you for certain!"_

_"Do you think I care?" Hiei retorted. "Why do you think I'm here? For a casual chat?"_

_Kurama was taken aback. "Well, I --"_

_The fire youkai cut him off. "I'm here because I knew you'd be sitting around like a lump, blaming yourself for the least little problem, and you'd need _me _to knock some sense into your baka head. If you don't pay attention to yourself for once instead of worrying about everything else, you're going to get yourself killed."_

_As Kurama stood watching, slightly stunned, Hiei tilted his head back to look at the sky. "There's something big coming, fox. I don't know what it is -- but you do, and I advise you to remember not to drop your guard. After finding out what death is like, the last thing I want is for you to be stuck here with me." He dropped his gaze to capture Kurama's, giving him a rare, playful smile._

_The kitsune couldn't stop tears from rising again, and they cast subtle rainbows in the light as they rolled over his cheeks. "Why, Hiei," he managed, trying to return the playfulness despite the tears, "I didn't know you cared."_

_Where Kurama would have expected a simple "Hn", or at least a denial, Hiei rolled his eyes. "That's because you've always been a stupid fox. Stupid foxes believe too much of what they hear. If I didn't care, I wouldn't bother." The Jaganshi looked away again, a streak of red touching his cheeks once more. "We share a bond, fox. I don't know why, but we do, so be sure that I'll know the minute you do something foolish. I don't want to find out that I've wasted my time coming here. Stay alive."_

_And with that, he turned his back, and walked off into the trees._

_"Wait!" Kurama stumbled into a run, tripping on a tuft of grass that seemed to rise up in his path. "Hiei, wait! I haven't -- I didn't --"_

_But the thin black form had melted into the shadows, and the kitsune couldn't see him anymore. The ground beneath him was shifting, dissolving into muted shimmers of that terrible not-light, and he fell . . ._

What he saw next was nothing more than snowy, shadowy forest, the trees forbidding and dark in Makai's night.

Kurama reached up and brushed a vermilion hair from his eyes, smiling faintly when his hand encountered dampness. He could almost hear Hiei grumbling disgustedly about his tears as he drifted off into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

* * *

_(1) How _does_one travel between the worlds without a ferrygirl or a special Reikai dispensation? I know small portals can be created, and I know Reikai can create openings into Makai when needed, but the way they discuss it in the series, I assume there are fixed portals able to transport even strong youkai, provided one knows where to find them. If that's flagrantly incorrect, please tell me, but otherwise that's what I'll stick with. I should have mentioned this in the very first chapter when I referenced the Makai gate; I apologize. I'm a noodlebrain on occasion._


	7. Trust

Part 7:  
Trust

_Well, here I am with Chapter 7 after slightly more than a year. If anyone is still interested in reading this, I hope you're not too annoyed at me. I tried, really and truly, but circumstances made it impossible, and I'm just glad I've been able to get this chapter out. It's not what I originally intended to do at this point in the story, but I find it works well enough. Expect a long wait for the next chapter, but probably not nearly as long as this one took. Glad to be back. Well, without further ado, here goes the chapter, and I hope it was worth how long you had to wait. If it isn't, I apologize._

* * *

The winds of Reikai were high and fitful, keening at a level above human hearing and buffeting Botan from side to side as she escorted Yuusuke and his companions to the palace. She made minute corrections to their course, slowing down what she hoped was an imperceptible amount, her pulse thudding dully in her ears.

The unrelenting landscape brought her no relief from her thoughts; the yellow ground that seemed to stretch into infinity was unbroken by anything save the river, and that wound gently toward the palace as it always had, too familiar to help. Even the clouds seemed static, affected little by the wind and moving only sluggishly across the horizon.

None of the Tantei had spoken to her, not a word, since she had appeared to ferry them to Koenma; the silence between them was unnatural and unnerving. It prickled along her nerves until she was certain she was broadcasting guilt and discomfort clearly for all to sense, tempered by a healthy spurt of fear -- for she _was_ afraid, of the set of Yuusuke's jaw, of the whiteness of Kuwabara's knuckles, of the helpless distress on Yukina's face.

_There's no telling what they're capable of now,_ she thought anxiously._They're sure to be feeling betrayed, and for them, betrayal is the highest sin . . ._

And she had played a part in that betrayal.

Reikai's pale lavender sky dimmed before her dark thoughts. She couldn't guess what they would do once they were in audience with Koenma; it might be that they would quit their service of the Reikai entirely, leaving the worlds with no real defense. They might try to kill Koenma, or even some of the oni in their anger, and she would probably be forced to have them arrested. She dreaded that duty, and doubted it was even possible to fulfill.

She wished fervently that she did not have to do this. She would accept any other position from Koenma, anything that didn't require her to lie to her friends like that ever again -- but it was impossible. She remembered little of who she had been before becoming a ferrygirl, but she did remember one thing: it was forever. She might exist for millennia, caught between life and death, ferrying souls to and from the Ningenkai one by one in a ceaseless parade. Until King Enma himself dismissed her, she would have no reprieve.

She had not cared, back then. She couldn't remember what had driven her to accept her position, knowing what it would entail, but she could recall feeling no regrets for her decision. But now . . . she regretted everything.

_I knew I shouldn't have gotten close to them. They're mortal, and mortals die, and even demons will wither while I remain young. But I can't help it. Oh, Koenma, if you knew how weak I was, you would never trust me again . . . and neither would I._

Their destination was upon them sooner than she had hoped, and she slowed again to deposit her passengers before the gate. They touched down without a glance at her as she sent her oar to otherspace and made to follow. All her attempts at catching their eyes failed.

_They probably hate me now,_ she thought miserably, and hung her head, trusting to long familiarity to guide her feet.

It was because of this that she did not see Kuwabara step in front of her until his blue uniform came into her vision, and she squeaked softly, coming to a halt only inches from him. Looking up in surprise, she was caught by his eyes—and the unexpected compassion they held.

"You don't have to feel so bad, Botan," he told her, before she could even form the question in her mind. "I know that whatever Koenma told you to do, you didn't have a choice in it. Whatever punishment you ferrygirls have for disobeying orders, it has to be worse than getting fired or something, or you would have told us about all this. I don't blame you for anything, Botan -- our deal is with Koenma, not you, okay?"

Caught speechless, Botan could only nod mutely, and Kuwabara turned around to lead the way in.

_That was . . . startling . . ._ Her spirits almost dared to rise at the unasked-for reprieve -- until she caught sight of Yuusuke.

Sick at heart, she hurried past him to catch up to Kuwabara, not wanting to see again those dark eyes telling her, in no uncertain terms, that_he_ did not so easily forgive.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The plump white rabbit whuffled in the snow, burying its tiny snout and then pulling it back again, twitching furiously to bring warmth into it. A stray blade of grass dared to poke up from the thick layer of whiteness, sheltered from the fiercest weather by overhanging trees, enticing the rabbit to again delve its sensitive pink nose into the cold.

It was not the scent of the greenery, however, that held the attention of the silver-shadowed figure hiding just upwind in the sparse bracken. Narrow golden eyes gazed with unblinking intensity, muscles held absolutely still beneath sleek fur, muzzle open slightly and fogging breath concealed within the snow. The silent predator waited with infinite, confident patience for his moment to come to him.

Hiei was bored.

Patient as he was, he had never had the desire to draw things out in the manner Kurama seemed so very fond of. This hunt would have ended long ago if he had been the fox crouched in the snow, rather than extended to a maddening length.

_Just so you can make a perfectly clean kill, ne, fox? You'd wait there all day if the wind didn't seem right._

And yet despite his boredom, he was content to watch his former partner at the hunt. It gave him pause for thought that he was so complacent, and had been nagging at him ever since the realization had occurred that he would have been satisfied to watch no matter what Kurama had been doing, so long as it was Kurama. He couldn't even pretend he had some ulterior motive for staying -- he had already admitted to himself that he had missed the kitsune. Not until he had seen him again, sleeping in the koorime's forest, had he realized just how badly.

He was being sentimental. He needed to cease with this nonsense immediately.

Lassitude. Well, so what if he was being a bit reflective? It meant nothing.

He looked away, surveying the edge of koorime territory from a distinctly unique perspective, one he had never had access to before his death. On the one horizon, the faint tinge of green that signaled a distant, warm forest; on the other, a dazzling strip of silvered white, broken by splotches of dark brown, black and bits of blue. Hiei had been glad when Kurama had headed for the edge of the ice country and all the memories it contained, but he wished the kitsune he was following would not have become hungry before they could be entirely clear of it. _Sitting here while he hunts rabbits is _not_my notion of fun._

He snorted wryly. _I suppose I could be doing less enjoyable things. Like following the fool, for instance. While it might be amusing to haunt him, I doubt I would be able to withstand his noxious presence for very long; if Meikai had anything worse to offer, I'd probably take it. Although if he dares touch Yukina, he will live out his miserable life without a moment's true peace. I'll skin that ningen bastard with nothing but my astral hands._

His thoughts gentled as he watched the rabbit move a little through the snow. _Yukina. I wonder how she fares. Hn. Probably much better without me. For all that Koenma can spout his lies about them needing me, they're all probably better off in the long run._

That particular thought was not at all new to him. In point of fact, he couldn't remember the first time it had crossed his mind. How long_had_ he felt that way? Long enough, he supposed, for it to have become reflexive -- the hypocrisy almost amused him. He was fiercely proud of his fighting ability, to the point where he would do most anything to preserve his skills and his reputation, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was all for nothing, that it would make no difference for those to whom he lent his competence.

He musingly contemplated the possible reasons for this. Perhaps because he often held back when he could have aided? That was unlikely; an honor code he might have, but declining help when it was not strictly needed did not violate that code, and to say that he felt guilt for anything outside its limits would imply that he had an overactive conscience. He didn't think he'd slipped _that_ much since he had become a Tantei.

Although, what else had changed since he had become a "good guy", he shuddered to think.

Guilt in itself was an emotion entirely new to him, and an uncomfortable one at that, which had presented itself like a neatly-wrapped present at the first opportunity. Thus far, only the fox had caused him to experience it, and the sanjiyan resented him highly for it. _You seem to delight in making my life complicated, kitsune. I wonder if it's another of your little amusing games._ The redhead was a source of endless puzzlement, to say nothing of the endless headaches that brought with it. Hiei blamed Kurama for a good many changes in himself, none of them changes he particularly welcomed, but the clever Kurama seemed to be curiously opaque when it came to the Jaganshi, and had never noticed his pique.

A stray beam of light from the rising sun drifted over his eyes, startling him into realizing that it was dawn. Oddly enough, the light didn't sting, though he flinched reflexively. Was it because it could no longer touch him, like everything else in the corporeal world?

Pah. He was thinking too much.

He didn't care for the amount of thinking he had been doing lately; it seemed superfluous and generally wasteful to spend his time like that. Then again, without his physical body, it wasn't as if he could really train any longer -- and there was another of those damned 'then again's. Since when had he spent so much time contradicting himself? This was pointless --

Below him, Kurama pounced.

Hiei felt something prickle along his skin, like a chill breeze -- in a dead calm where there was no wind. The trees with their broad needles had not even stirred an inch.

Every instinct the Jaganshi had ever possessed snapped to attention with a suddenness that nearly overflowed his mind with input. Narrowed, scanning eyes detected nothing out of the ordinary; his acute hearing yielded the same result. His Jagan eye was dormant as it had been since his death, and the reflex to rely on it had to be overridden with some effort; that left him with only his neo-physical senses, and a strange premonition of danger.

He knew what it was without having to think.

_So. Those sniveling cowards back at the Reikai have finally organized a search for me. How predictably slow._ He felt for the danger sensation, trying to pinpoint a direction, but it was too general, seeming to hang in the air around him. He would have to hide. A wry reflection on the irony in "the peace of death" entered his thoughts; he had had more peace during his arguments with Kuwabara.

He glanced down at Kurama, who was now tearing into his prey with uniquely vulpine enthusiasm, and sighed, annoyed. Again, prevailing upon the fox's good grace was a necessity. Hiei supposed there were better places he could hide, but he wasn't about to leave Kurama alone now. _The baka has already proved he needs my help. Now he has the opportunity to return the favor._

He drifted down closer, and smirked sardonically as he settled into his friend's spiritual shadow, ducking under the aura and using it like a shield. It wouldn't keep them from finding him for long, but it would at least buy him some time to consider his options. He waited patiently for Kurama to finish his meal, and then clung to the aura as the two of them sped for the Makai gate.

_Hn. Hiding from the weather in the fox's room. Nothing changes, does it?_

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The walk through the hallway was the longest walk of Yuusuke's life.

Step. Step. Step.

Their feet echoed hollowly. They walked in step out of long habit, save Botan, who levitated nervously ahead of them on her oar. This corridor had never been so silent that Yuusuke could remember, though he could recall times when they had not spoken; this quiet was heavier, colder, and more oppressive. An empty quiet.

Step. Step. Step.

This was a new kind of pain, to match the strange new silence. He had never felt pain this way before, not this deep in his chest or this high in his throat. He felt its distinction in a calm, almost detached way, completely independent of the rage that bottled in his body and ki.

He knew why it felt different. He had seen friends die, be humiliated, and be tortured; he had had all three happen to him on numerous occasions. But never, not once since he had given his trust to someone, had he been betrayed. Not by a friend.

Step. Step. Step.

Trust. He had believed so few worthy of it, and never granted it lightly. Those few had to earn what was given, and only his fellow Tantei had ever earned unconditional faith. He trusted them with his life and the lives of those he cared for. Only one other had come close to reaching that level -- and he could not have fallen farther.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Stop.

The door.

Anger made his chest tighten with each breath he took through his clenched jaw. He let go of the calm in a few taut exhalations, giving himself over to the rage that would sustain him through this confrontation. He hardly saw the oni as he passed them, didn't notice them draw back from his deadly expression; he didn't even see Botan disappear down a corridor, leaving them alone, or Yukina hang back in fearful reluctance. His eyes were only on the door to Koenma's office. He stepped into that office as though stepping into the ring -- teeth bared, eyes slitted, heart constricted into a cold, hard lump of steel.

This was _hurting_ him, more than he could stand, far more than his reason told him it should. The anger was as much a defense against the pain as it was a true emotion; it was like needles in his throat and chest as he stared his boss down.

The boss he had _thought_ was also a friend.

Koenma was sitting at his desk, for once not rummaging through the papers on it, wearing his teenaged form -- the only one Yuusuke liked. The toddler body just seemed incongruous and unsettling, but this older, more poised visage suited his position much better. In a way, it made what Yuusuke was going to say easier; this was a Koenma who knew full well what he had done, and wasn't hiding behind his toddler form and pretending to be naïve. Yuusuke held a sort of grim appreciation for that.

He didn't bother with a preamble. Striding with barely suppressed rage, he approached the desk and slapped the amber half-sphere down with a loud, ringing clop. The sound resonated in the cavernous room; Koenma automatically reached for the artifact, but Yuusuke had not removed his hand. For a moment, silence glittered under the hot lights of the office.

"You lying bastard." The hiss emerged from his mouth as an unplanned, unrecognizable thread of sound, nearly impossible to hear beneath the diminishing echoes the artifact had kicked up. A change came over Koenma's features -- a change that did not include surprise.

Another, more familiar voice spoke behind him: "Let him talk, Urameshi." It was too calm, too reasonable. Yuusuke refused to acknowledge it.

What it did was make Koenma bold; he straightened a bit in his chair and smoothed over his initial reaction. The black-haired detective did not even allow him to open his mouth, however.

"He doesn't get to talk," he said, rudely slicing off whatever Koenma had been about to say. "You know why, Kuwabara? Because there's nothing he can say that can even come close to justifying what he did." He never took his eyes off Koenma's. "Hiei's_dead_ because of you. He's dead because of your stupid lies, and you've probably got him doing some shithole community service for his entire afterlife because you can't make him come back. Is that it?"

Blackly embittered satisfaction sprang to life at Koenma's wince. Yuusuke wasn't done talking.

"Kurama can't even bring himself to be in the same world as you are, and the only reason I _can_ is that I don't want _my_ world to be french-fried by some demon. I can't speak for Kuwabara, but as far as I'm concerned, you've still got a lead detective -- but what you_don't_ have is a friend." He straightened up. "And that's _all_ I have to say to you."

And with that, he pointedly turned his back on Koenma's poleaxed look and began to march purposefully towards the door.

Kuwabara grabbed his shoulder as he went past, detaining him. "Hold on, Urameshi! I wanna hear what he has to say!"

"Then stay and listen," snapped Yuusuke coldly, jerking himself free. "I'm leaving."

"You owe it to him to stay!" persisted Kuwabara.

"I don't owe him _anything!"_ Yuusuke exploded.

"He's been our boss for a long time now and he's saved our lives more times than I can count, so if you're never gonna to speak to him again at least stay here and hear him out! He at least deserves a chance to try and explain himself!"

"Shut up, Kuwabara! I don't _care_ how many times he's saved my life! I don't care how many times he's saved _your_ life! All I care about is that he got Hiei killed, and I _will not_ forgive him for that!"

"I'm not asking you to forgive him! I'm asking you to stay in here for a few minutes and pretend to listen because if you don't, _I_ might decide to not ever speak to _you_ again!"

That hit home. He'd lost Hiei; he'd more or less lost Kurama, and he'd lost Koenma and Botan. If he lost Kuwabara as a friend --

Yuusuke glared at his companion, fought down icy barbs of fear and hatred and turned back to Koenma, who was staring at them with the most peculiar expression on his face.

"Fine. Talk."

The silence stretched long between them.

"You don't understand," Koenma said quietly, his tone subdued. He picked up the amber artifact and clenched his fingers around its scraggy edges. "I had no choice. Don't you know what this is?"

At these words, Yuusuke snarled and almost turned to leave again, but held his place, Kuwabara's threat fresh in his mind. He said nothing.

"This -- this is more important and more dangerous than anything in the three worlds. More lives than Hiei's were at stake; more lives than you can imagine." His eyes held pleading when he looked up. "I'm a god, Yuusuke. I have to make decisions based on what's best for everyone, not just a favored few. Getting this back was worth Hiei's life, and yours, and even mine -- I had to do what I did."

Yuusuke's vision went red, and it was all he could do to confine his rage to words. "That's a load of --"

"Why weren't we allowed to know?" asked Kuwabara roughly, interrupting. He put a hand on his teammate's shoulder, an obvious sign to stand down, and Yuusuke shrugged it angrily away. A tiny modicum of self-control prevented him from ripping it off.

The kami was silent for a long moment. He wouldn't meet their eyes. "For your protection."

"And I suppose it was for Hiei's protection, too?" snarled the black-haired boy.

"Yes, dammit!" Koenma's fists hit the desk. "I wanted you all where I could keep an eye on you! I knew you'd stay in Ningenkai until I called for you if --" He halted, shut his eyes, and drew in a deep breath, beginning again. "The only way to be sure that you wouldn't get concerned about Kurama and go to check on him was to tell you he was dead, and given the nature of his mission, there was a high possibility that would turn out to be the truth. If you had disrupted that mission, _all_ of you would almost certainly have died, and to prevent that I lied to you. I didn't expect you to forgive me for the deception, but I was prepared to accept your resentment; I did _not_ expect Hiei to react as he did. In fact, it was the _last_ thing I expected him to do. My plan was to get Kurama through his mission as safely as I could, then tell you everything once he was out of danger -- it was never meant to cause any deaths, least of all Hiei's." His voice was as angry as his Tantei's now, though much more level, but it was threatening to lose that stability.

If possible, the ruler's self-righteous logic enraged Yuusuke even further. "That's _bullshit!_ Why the hell didn't you just tell us he wouldn't be back for a really long time and not to go looking for him? We're not toddlers like you, we can listen to simple instructions!"

"You're not toddlers, but you're certainly as insubordinate! I knew that if you were worried enough about him, you'd go no matter what I told you to do, and I couldn't take that risk!"

"The least you could have done if you were going to lie anyway was tell us he was fine and didn't need help! Did _that_ ever occur to you?"

"Do you think I don't know that you don't trust me? Hiei especially has almost a sixth sense about lies --"

"You_bastard!_ Don't you _dare!"_

"Will you both shut up so I can get a word in?" yelled Kuwabara. "Stop shouting at each other and just let Koenma finish what he's got to say! When he's done you guys can yell all you want, but I'm not gonna spend all day listening to you fight!"

"Kuwabara, SHUT UP!" roared Yuusuke.

"Stop acting like a kid, Urameshi! If --"

The Tantei didn't allow this friend to get any farther. Driven beyond reason, his fist lashed out, catching Kuwabara on the cheekbone and sending him flying into the office wall. The crash scattered a stack of papers and reverberated vacuously in the silence that followed. Koenma's eyes were wide.

Yuusuke's anger vanished before realization. He lowered his arm, stricken. "Kuwabara --" he began, then stopped.

Kuwabara levered himself off the ground, putting a hand to his face. Yukina, who had until then been standing speechless in the doorway, dashed to his side and knelt, touching the already purpling bruise.

Yuusuke felt rooted to the spot. Guilt washed over him, and he reached out a hand, taking a step forward to assist as Yukina struggled with her much heavier companion. Speech forced its way haltingly through his lips. "Kuwabara, I didn't mean to -- are you all right?"

Just as his hand closed around his friend's arm, Kuwabara pulled himself fully upright and threw Yuusuke off of him with some force. Yuusuke stumbled back and caught his balance. He stared into Kuwabara's eyes, and fear thrilled through him at what he saw there.

"Fine, Urameshi," the larger boy said. His voice was hard. "If you won't listen to reason, then you can just leave and not come back."

Koenma broke in. "Kuwabara, that's not your decision to make." A pause. "It's Yuusuke's." As both the Tantei turned their attention to him, his posture slumped in a gesture of defeat. "I won't keep him here if he doesn't want to remain, and if he doesn't want to stay on as a detective, he doesn't have to."

Wind completely taken from his sails, Yuusuke groped for words. The rage that had given him momentum had dissipated, but he found stability in his own guilt. "I already answered that, Koenma. The worlds are more important to me than what a bastard you are. But I'm not staying here any longer, and I'm not coming back. You can take your cases to me when they come up, or not at all." He turned to his friends. "Kuwabara, Yukina -- if you don't want me around anymore, I won't come around. But it's going to be a hell of a lot harder to work together if we aren't speaking. At least let me pretend I'm still worth having friends."

Unable to think of anything further to say, he pivoted on his heel and paced out of the office. This time, no one stopped him; they all watched him go in silence.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

In Ningenkai, a figure crouched on the branch of a very old tree, sniffing the lingering scent that remained there. He gazed sadly into the window of a familiar room, taking in things already committed to heart and memory and reinforcing them.

Kurama wasn't sure why he was here. Though he had asked Yuusuke to take care of his kaasan, intending to remain in Makai, as he wandered lost in his own thoughts he had ended up back in the Ningenkai, in the place he had watched his home from so often during his mission: Hiei's favorite branch. The Jaganshi's scent was everywhere, clinging to the tree bark like an invisible mist, etched there by his daily visits and long naps; that scent combined with that of his kaasan struck him with nearly physical pain.

He wanted to go inside. He knew he should go inside. But something stalled him -- he didn't know what to say to his mother. All those times he had secretly visited her during his mission, she, like all the others, had thought he was dead. The rest of the Tantei, as his friends, would have told her. He couldn't just walk in as if he'd never left and expect her to welcome him -- there would be shock, pain and perhaps even fear.

He wasn't certain he'd be able to handle his mother's fear. Through all the times that he had resolved to tell her who he really was, that alone had held him back. He did not want her to fear him, no more than he wanted Yuusuke or Hiei to fear him, though he knew they did not.

Kurama had no idea what to do. This particular quandary, one that he had ignored or rationalized away for the last three or four years, had suddenly been thrust in his face and could not be stalled any longer. Whether he revealed his identity or not, no matter what he said or did, his mother would know that he was not the son she had always thought him to be. He didn't even know enough about what she had been told to come up with an ostensible cover story. He would have nothing, forced to present himself to her and face whatever her reaction might be.

The more he brooded on his situation, the more hopeless it seemed to be. He knew it was not something he could unravel all at once, but the enormity of it was suffocating him and clouding his reason. He was in too dangerous a position to afford that; more dilemmas than one faced him now.

He bit his lip pensively, mentally switching topics to one other that had been bothering him. _Something big is coming,_ Hiei had said. Something that Hiei didn't know anything about -- but Kurama did.

_Gendou and Donari._

That was the only thing that made sense. Donari would have missed him days ago, and she was fast enough to have caught up with Gendou and told him what had occurred. She had also had time to send out spies to find out who Kurama _really_ was, and who had sent him, which meant she might know significantly more about him and about the Tantei than she had when he'd served her. Greater knowledge meant greater power -- and she had been powerful enough.

At least, now _he_ knew why, and how. His youko side spared a disdainful snort for Koenma. _Tch. He must think that my human years have made me an imbecile. To think that I would not see what was plainly in front of my face -- that "artifact" is half of the Kurainaku. It explains Donari's power perfectly. She was clever to have hidden it from me for so long, I'll admit, but Koenma's clumsy attempt to recover one half was amateur at best. Trying to send the rest of the Tantei after it while I was safely out of the way was not wise of him. And then again, he has been clumsy this entire time; the spy who delivered it to the koorime as a "peace-gift" must have been his best agent at a moment's notice._

_But I have been clumsy as well, and I can no longer ignore the foolishness of my actions. I did what I had to -- but I could have done it better. I was careless. I should have formulated a diversion at least, or an alibi, or taken the time to cover my tracks. I was so hasty -- so worried about them -- Yuusuke, Hiei . . ._

He closed his eyes tightly.

_I'm a fool. And I may very well die because of it._

He shook his head, hair falling into his face and catching on a twig._This does me no good. I must focus on staying alive. After all, I wouldn't want to face Hiei if I died._ A sad smile tugged at his lips as he shifted position on the tree branch, freeing his trouser leg from the snagging bark. _So. Where can I go? The most I can do is stall; I'm not safe in Ningenkai because of Koenma, and the Reikai is out of the question. However, if I stay in the Makai, Donari_ will _find me eventually, and I would stand little chance of surviving. But -- Reikai agents or none, Ningenkai might allow me some cover; if I stay with my kaasan and don't draw attention to myself --_

He didn't finish that thought; it took him back to where he had started._I'm not getting anywhere. If I don't talk to my kaasan, I have no place to go; but if I do, I risk losing her -- a gamble even the youko might not have taken. I wish I knew what was best. Yuusuke and Kuwabara may need my assistance, but I don't know if I truly have the willpower to keep from committing a capital crime. I would rather die than be locked up in Reikai prison for all eternity, and I've already promised Hiei I'd try to avoid that eventuality._

As he mulled over this predicament, he caught a glimpse of movement inside and froze immediately, hardly daring to breathe. His mother had just walked into his bedroom, with something in her hands. Trying to get a better view without being spotted, he leaned forward over the branch, trusting the leaves to screen him as effectively as they had always hidden Hiei. She was holding a planting pot -- a bush of some sort.

His eyes went wide. He would recognize those blooms anywhere; they were his favorite. Roses.

Quietly, Shiori crossed the room to the bed, setting the pot down gently just outside his field of vision in the dusty swath of sunlight the window afforded, before turning and departing as silently as she had come.

Kurama sat in the tree for a very long time, watching his empty room through a thin curtain of silver tears, trying to find a solution to a problem that had none. The tree branches began to bend slightly under the wieght of his distress, closing comfortingly about him like an embrace.

_Hiei . . . what would you have done?_

The rustle of leaves, and a faint, ghosting sense of presence, were his only answer.

Kurama sighed. Taking one last look, he jumped down from the branch to land catlike on the ground beneath, and walked towards his front door. If he wasn't ready now, he never would be.

* * *

_Well, that's it for this chapter. More tangible things will happen next chapter, and you can expect more action also. I've scrapped my plot summary; I felt it was tying me down and might well have had a lot to do with how long it took me to get this chapter written, so although I know vaguely what I'd like to do with the end of this fic, I'll pretty much wing it from here and just adhere to loose, important plot points. I've acquired what I hope will turn out to be one of those oh-so-elusive creatures, a steady beta reader/co-author, and more work is being done as I type. Missed working on this story, I did; glad to be back after that unforgivably long hiatus._


	8. Stop Motion

Part 8:  
Stop Motion

_I realize almost no one is reading this fic anymore and I realize why. I am a horrible person who never posts and now that it's been more than forever, no one wants to bother -- this story isn't Lord of the Rings, and you people won't wait a year between chapters and still care. What I really hate is that here I am, posting it anyway, because despite my lack of attentiveness to you guys, I at least am still hopelessly addicted to this fic. So I merrily leave updates for phantom people and hope that I can maybe attract new readers who aren't as familiar with my evil procrastinating ways._

_Having discharged my duty to apologize, I have a few short chapter notes. This is a peculiar chapter and you will immediately see why. I felt that without a few stylistic changes of pace, the story would stagnate beyond any hope of recovery. So this chapter is odd. The subsequent chapters won't all be the same as this one (gods forbid) so you needn't worry that I'm becoming lazy or anything like that. This just happened to be how the chapter came out. If it were going to do so any other way, believe me, it would have. I've spent the last year trying to force it, and it refused. Expect the next chapter up relatively soon; it's nearly done already. Well, happy reading!_

* * *

"You're going home?"

"I am."

"But why can't you stay with Genkai for a while? You haven't been around the temple much lately."

"I will soon, but first, I have something I must do at my village."

"But -- do you have to?"

"I do. The elders will never forgive me if I don't return immediately and apologize."

"But you didn't do anything!"

"I brought you into my village, against the law, and you broke our hospitality. The responsibility is mine."

"Some hospitality! That doesn't make any sense! And won't you get in trouble?"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. The elders will find a suitable punishment for me, but no one has been banished from the tribe in all our recorded history, except -- except my brother."

"I still don't get what their problem is with men. Did men do something bad to them, and that's why they're mad?"

"No, it's not that. Things have always been this way."

"That's stupid. There's nothing wrong with men, and you don't throw someone out of your city just because they got born different. No offense, but I don't gotta lot of respect for people like that."

"I have never agreed with them, either, but I will not presume to judge my own people."

"Hey -- I'm sorry, Yukina. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's all right. Would you like to come with me as far as the village? I would feel safer if I weren't alone."

"Of course! I'd go anywhere if you asked me to!"

"Thank you, Kazuma."

"No need to thank me, my love, just lead the way!"

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Well. That's quite a story. How long since Kurama reappeared?"

"A couple of days. I haven't seen him since he ran off."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I don't have a clue -- he could be anywhere by now."

"Hm. That could be a problem. You should go talk to his mother as soon as you have an opportunity. I'm surprised you didn't go there first instead of coming to harry me."

"Actually, I went to see Keiko first. I told her everything."

"Really? Well that makes more sense. You really do have some sense of priority. In any case, be sure to visit Mrs. Minamino as soon as you get done here -- and _I_ will decide when that is."

"Hey, I'm not your student anymore. Why don't you lecture someone your own size?"

"Don't talk back to me, brat. You think I can't beat you into the ground if I want? You might have more of a problem with the stupid old hag than you think. Besides, I know where your weak points are. Mostly they're due to poor application of training; you got my Orb and then you threw all your technique away in favor of brute strength. That was the best way to beat Toguro, but you really ought to patch those holes in your defense before some rookie demon does something unexpected and knocks you flat on your ass. You should take some pointers from Kurama: he took the time to master his transformation and keep himself in shape, and my bet's on him if you two decide to have it out. You're furious with him, aren't you?"

"Dammit, I -- what?"

"You might be angry at Koenma -- and believe me, he deserves it -- but you're also angry at Kurama for not trying to keep in touch during his mission. If he had, all of this could have been avoided, right? Never mind that it might have gotten him killed for real. _You_ would have risked it, so you want to know why he didn't."

"What the hell is all this? It's none of your business!"

"Shut up and listen, Yuusuke. This is important. You're angry at Kurama, and don't bother denying it."

"I am not!"

"I told you to shut your trap, you insubordinate punk!"

"Ow! Cut that out!"

"You have the stupidest priorities of any apprentice I have ever had the misfortune to teach! You're seething over what you think Kurama could have done to keep Hiei alive, and ignoring the big picture. Well I have news for you."

"Spit it out, hag! I don't care what you say!"

"Then you'll be quiet and listen to it. Kurama is not a human being. He may have lived with us for over sixteen years, he may even have a trace of human soul in addition to his own, but he is, at his core, something else. He has a ruthless streak wider than I've ever seen and a survival instinct to match. I'm surprised he acted as foolishly as he did, assuming you've told me everything."

"So he's a demon! What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"I'm not finished yet, dimwit. However much he cares about you blockheads, he was perfectly right to keep his silence, and here's why: you might not care _how_ you die, but youkai care very much. He's completely willing to die in battle or saving someone -- those are acceptable. To be hunted, trapped, and _punished_ is not. Death for failure is not. Being casually slaughtered by some low-class demon with more power than she deserves is not. He is very conscious of his pride, but that isn't why he didn't risk it. He didn't risk it because he would never have been able to look at himself ever again if he died that way. His entire afterlife would be a torment, which would be even worse if you tried to get him brought back as you undoubtedly would have eventually."

"But -- I . . . is that true?"

"Of course it is. At least you're finally thinking. Now that you've got something to ponder, here's something else. If you can admit you're angry at Kurama, you may as well go all the way and admit that if Hiei were alive, you'd kill him yourself. Right now you hate both of them. Some advice: get over it. I don't have to explain Hiei's motivation the way I did Kurama's; even you're smart enough to have figured it out. They're both suffering enough without you piling your hurt feelings on top of it."

"I -- guess so."

"Now. Koenma was not justified. He understands youkai, and he was probably trying to take some pressure off of Kurama by giving him orders not to contact anyone, but telling you that Kurama was dead was cruel, shortsighted and unfair. He's definitely all of those things. However, I think there's something more behind this, and I might even know what it is."

"What? You know something about this? Tell me what it is! I gotta -- OW! Stop freaking _hitting_ me!"

"Shut up, nitwit. I need to check my sources. Remember when I said I would decide when you're done here? Well you are. Go to Kurama's mother. Go deal with your stupid misplaced anger issues, and come back here when you're ready to talk about them. I don't think I need to hit you over the head with any more stunning revelations. It's enough just to remind you that I can read you like a scroll. Anytime you need another translation, you know where I'll be."

"Whatever. Hag."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"What are you doing here? It's pretty late."

"I don't mean to bother you; I just heard from Yuusuke."

"Really? It's about time. Come on in. Would you like a soda?"

"No, thank you."

"Do you mind if I have a beer?"

"No, that's fine. Wow, things are really clean here. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to --"

"No problem, I understand what you meant. It's amazing what can happen when my brother is gone for a while. So what have he and Yuusuke been up to? Will they be back soon?"

"Pretty soon."

"Where are they? Off fighting muscled freaks again?"

"Actually . . ."

"What's wrong? Did something happen? Is Kazuma all right?"

"He's fine. It's not that."

"Don't keep me in suspense, Keiko!"

"I know your brother told you about Kurama. Yuusuke says it's not true."

"Really? That's great news! So if he's not dead, where's he been all this time? Was he captured or something?"

"He was on some sort of mission that Yuusuke wasn't supposed to know about. Something top secret. But he's really okay, although Yuusuke said he might not be back for a while."

"But something else is wrong, isn't it? That was the good news, so what's the bad?"

"Kurama's not dead . . . but -- Hiei is. For sure."

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Keiko. How did it happen?"

"Yuusuke wouldn't say."

"I knew there was something strange . . ."

"Shizuru?"

"A few days back, I sensed something, like a wave of pain across my chest, but it disappeared. I thought it was a dream -- I have them sometimes, since the Tournament."

"Yuusuke was so strange, Shizuru! He seemed so angry, but he would hardly talk to me, and I'm afraid! What if he doesn't come back? What if the same thing happens to him that happened to Hiei?"

"It won't. Calm down, girl."

"What do you mean, it won't?"

"I'm not sure why, but I'm certain of it. He's safe for now. What happened to Hiei was something different."

"How can you know that?"

"I just know. Look, where did Yuusuke say he was going?"

"He said he wanted to see Genkai."

"Well, there you go. He can hardly be in danger there."

"I -- guess so."

"I'll bet he'll be home in a day or so. Hopefully Genkai will help him and Kazuma get through this -- Hiei was a pretty good friend."

"I thought Kuwabara didn't like Hiei at all."

"Men stuff. They were friends, they just never admitted it. I'm glad that Kurama's alive, though. I'm not sure Yuusuke would . . . well, never mind."

"What? You're not sure Yuusuke would what?"

"I said it's not important. It's the middle of the night; you should go get some sleep. You'll be late for school if you sleep in."

"Well, all right. I just wanted to tell you what was going on."

"I appreciate it, kiddo. We'll have coffee tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Sir? You called for me?"

"What? Oh, yes. I'm very pleased with your efforts in this matter. I wanted to tell you that you have a leave of absence for a few days, if you'd like."

"Yes, sir. Thank you very much."

"Make sure you finish up your report before you go."

"Yes, sir. -- What is it?"

"Can't _you_ even look me in the eye anymore? No, don't answer that. I'm sure I don't want to know."

"But sir, I -- it isn't that."

"Then what is it?"

"It -- it's just so sad. They'll never come back here again. They'll never visit just because, or show up grumbling about work. It's . . . empty."

"I know. Things won't be the same around here. Even the oni aren't working up to par."

"So they've noticed, even this soon?"

"The way Yuusuke stormed out, did you think they wouldn't?"

"I suppose not."

"Do you think what I did was right?"

"Truthfully? No. I think it was cruel and horrible and I hate you for it. But I also think it was necessary."

"Fair enough. What now?"

"I'm not sure. Hiei should be captured soon; we can try again with him."

"No. That's not an option any longer. This whole situation is a ticking time bomb, and I can't wait for him to come around. When he's brought in, I'll process him as usual, and send him on. I'll let you know when that happens, if you want to say goodbye."

"But -- I understand, sir. Just don't punish him too much. We forced him into it."

"I'm already waiving his sentence for breaking jail. That's the most I can do. But now we have to focus on our options. I can't use it myself, Botan. The backlash would be too strong. I needed Hiei to use it for me, because he's the only one who wouldn't be in danger."

"What about Kurama, sir?"

"Not unless he wants to join Hiei. Given his body's composition, it could very easily kill him. The he'd be a suicide case and I don't want to deal with that."

"That's a ridiculous law and you know it. I don't know why Enma-sama hasn't changed it already. It's not fair!"

"It's a law for a reason -- if he uses it knowing he'll die, whether he's saving the worlds or not, it's equivalent to willful death. It's dumbest rule in the book, but there's no getting around it. At least the sentence is relatively light. Though there ought to be a clause exempting Tantei; maybe my father would be willing to review it."

"You made an exception for Yuusuke."

"Yuusuke didn't quite count; he knew he was putting himself in danger, but he didn't know he'd die, and he wasn't driving the car. You have to be wielding the object that kills you. Even if he had been a suicide case, I might have made an exception for him anyway, though -- I needed a detective, and he just fell in my lap, and I don't think I'd have been able to pass up the opportunity."

"If I may ask, sir, why _can't_ you make an exception for Kurama? He's a valuable asset."

"I don't break the rules very often, and I can't do it anymore at all; with things this close to the wire, I have to follow the rules, or I could lose my position. My father can't replace me, and he knows it, and I know it. This situation could go up in flames if that happens."

"Then we have to use one of them soon, before it gets any worse."

"I can't use any of them, Botan! None of them are safe!"

"But what about Yuusuke?"

_"No!_ I won't let that happen again!"

"But he's only --"

"That's enough that I can't afford the risk! You're the only one who knows why, so don't push me!"

"I think he could do it!"

"I won't take the chance!"

"Then let me!"

"Hah! Interesting, but we can't afford that either. We have no idea what it might do to you -- or to me."

"We're all out of options, Koenma. Either let me do it, or find someone strong enough who won't be killed. Or use Yuusuke. No one is irreplaceable in a situation like this."

"Stop it. You have no idea what it would mean if he were to die this way. I can't give him a reprieve -- he'd be given a mandatory sentence, just like Hiei. It might be doubled because he's been brought back to life once already. I probably wouldn't even have to see him."

"You would."

"I won't. I won't let it come to that."

"I'm sorry. But you know those are your only options."

"Fine. I appreciate your help. You can leave now if you want."

"Thank you, sir. Let me know if -- if anything comes up that you need me for."

"I will."

* * *

_So ends the interlude. I know it's a poor substitute for a real chapter, but it gets a few things out of the way and sets up the next chapter, which will be quite long and will definitely consist of more than dialogue. Please let me know what you think, and I'll do my best to be actually punctual (or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof) in getting the next chapter posted._


	9. Gambit

Part 9:  
Gambit

_Wow. An actual chapter, actually before deadline. Given this story's history, that's practically worth a medal._

_This is a very long chapter, the longest to date, and pushes things a bit more into action. I was worried that some parts of it might be rushed, but my beta tells me this is not so; therefore I hope you enjoy, and I'm already working on Chapter 10!_

* * *

The copse was at the edge of the Makai forest, its thirty or so trees thin and scrawny, though comparatively bigger and more lush than any in the Ningenkai. The six-hour time difference between the two mortal worlds made it just sunset here, the already reddish sky becoming nearly molten, and clouds gathered at the western edge of the horizon, lightning visible even at this distance though the thunder of the shaping storm could not yet be heard. The rain would arrive just as the sun set completely, but that would not be for another few minutes; for now, all was calm.

Sheltered by the innermost trees, where he could see neither sun nor bloody sky, Kurama lay, cradled by kind branches and soft, gentle leaves. Motionless, his hair concealed his face, aiding the shadows in making his vision all but useless. All he could see were blurred patches of gray and dark red, but he didn't need to see more. He'd watched many sunsets in this world, seen and known all kinds of trees in his long lifetime. Nothing was new to him now.

Not even this emotion was entirely a stranger. Once in a great while he had felt this way, and he could call each time to mind. The first time had been in his youth, when he was hardly into his second century -- the cause had receded beyond memory. Hundreds of years had passed before he felt it again; Kuronue lingered in his thoughts for a time. And then Hiei, Yuusuke, Kuwabara -- and now his human mother.

It was an odd sort of feeling that slowed his breathing and left a hollow pulse beneath his heart -- like a sudden wind through a dormant room, a flutter, a strange echo. It wasn't even really pain, but it deadened his limbs, and he felt no need to move, to answer the calls of hunger or thirst, or to look at anything in particular.

He felt as though he could easily forget it had ever happened. This calm was so thorough that he was in no danger of disgracing himself as he had before. The news of Hiei's death had been so unexpected; a blow to the chest rather than this quiet, vacant sense of lassitude. It had _hurt,_ and still hurt, threatening his control whenever he thought on it at all. To forget would be impossible for any but the barest of moments.

What, then, was the difference? He supposed that he had expected this outcome, and for far longer than he had admitted to himself. His vain hope notwithstanding, he had come to accept, somewhere deep in his unconscious mind, that this would come.

_Her eyes so full of fear, her tears, her denial --_

He had allowed so few close enough to cause this emotion in him, but his mother was the first ningen to come so near, and as always, his time with her had been short. Nearly seventeen years, and it was only an eyeblink in the span of his long life, even to only the years he had already lived. With his new body, he could live for centuries more -- even he had no idea precisely how long his years had been extended by this form. The body he inhabited was much more than merely human. Changed on a fundamental level by his kitsune youki, he estimated that he could sustain it for the next half-millennium if he so chose, and then he might even have the option of finding a demon's body to use, which would give him much, much longer. The prospect of near-immortality loomed in his future --

He was so damned tired of it all.

Would he ever unlearn his foolishness? After centuries, he still let people get close to him. Worse, in the last sixteen years, a mere _sixteen years,_ he had allowed not one but _four_ individuals inside his defenses. That was more than foolish: that was unforgivable. He was fully aware of what happened every time he did this; why hadn't he stopped it at the beginning, when there had still been time?

_Yuusuke would say that even demons need companionship. Kuwabara would disagree and say that demons are evil -- present company excepted, of course. Hiei would just say that he hoped I'd learned my lesson this time; friends are for the weak. My kaasan -- she would wonder what she missed, who I was, why she never knew._ A bright, cold feeling in his throat. _I need them._

And yet a part of him looked back on his actions and thoughts and despised him for a coward and a weak-hearted simpleton. _I never needed them,_ its voice scoffed. _The spineless human I have become needs them. I am youko: I am above them. They are chattel. I should never have lowered myself to so much as grant them my notice; my human "mother" was just a vessel to preserve my life, nothing more._

It warred with his emotions. _I owe them. I owe them my life many times over; it is a debt I have not yet repaid. They have given without reservation, and I have not been truly honest with them, save Hiei. They will not understand, as my mother did not understand._

_Then they do not deserve to understand. I owe them nothing._

_I owe them a farewell, at least._

_That is already given. What more holds me back? Honor? Loyalty? Those are dead. Youkai do not need them. It is better to leave them behind._

_I -- cannot._

_But I must._

It ended there. He stood, pushing back his hair, the leaves and branches parting fluidly to expose the darkening sky. He could smell the coming rain.

_If I survive, I will not go back to the human world. There is nothing for me there now. When this is all over, Makai will once again be my home. My life will truly be as it once was -- and I will not make the same mistakes again._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

_An odd, shrieking cry split the air, knifing through his hearing with a suddenness that made him skid to an ungainly halt at the crest of the hill. Horse-like ears swiveled back, catching the soft shushing sound of feet moving swiftly over dry grass, and he half-turned, expectant, patiently waiting._

_Rapacious winds tore at the landscape, separating branch from parent tree and dashing masses of soil and dust into airborne life, and yet it was born not of nature's whims, but of a titanic fury that emanated from one small, feminine shape fairly flying across the ground. Once-gray eyes were a molten, shifting quicksilver, beautiful and terrifying and altogether unholy. He awaited her approach with something less than calm, apprehension beginning as he sensed her rage beating at his skin._

_As that familiar face, those frightening eyes, drew closer to him, he felt as though he would suffocate beneath the force of that anger; it drove the breath from his lungs and left him gasping, his hackles rising in an involuntary echo of wrath._

_She topped the hill in one massive surge of speed, and was upon him --_

"GYAAAH!"

Kuwabara tore out of sleep, falling sideways off a bed that by now was strange and unfamiliar. For a moment his mind refused to clear -- then the dream-fog lifted, and he was able to focus on the hardwood floor and at what a skewed angle he was seeing it. It was morning, and he was -- home.

Disorientation set in, followed quickly by equilibrating memory. He just hadn't spent a night at home in more than two weeks, and it had been a long and surreal two weeks at that. The entire room felt alien, more so than snow or ice as a bed. Though the last time he had walked that snow he had not had to sleep in it; a now-accommodating Botan had dropped him off well inside the koorime territory, and it was only an hour's walk or so to a safe point just beyond the village. There he had left Yukina with a brief farewell and taken in return her promise to visit once her duty was discharged.

Shizuru was home. He heard her in the other room and guessed that she was cooking breakfast by the sound and the scent of miso soup. Eikichi appeared at the foot of the bed, mewling a greeting and demanding to be petted. Outside the clouded sky had just stopped drizzling, and cars hummed by at their normal semi-regular intervals.

Quiet.

As he sat still, absorbing the peaceful non-noise around him, Kuwabara had an inexplicable feeling that he shouldn't stay here. It wasn't that he shouldn't _be_ here, only that there was something he ought to be doing.

_Is it because of the dream? What was that about, anyway? I wonder what Shizuru would think about it._

Another yowl, louder; a tiny paw batted at his bare foot, making it tickle. He looked down and grinned at his cat. "Hey, Eikichi, come to Ka-zu-ma!" He scooped the feline up into his arms and gave her a hug, aware of how much he had missed his pet. Eikichi, smart as always, bit him soundly on the back of the neck until he let her go with an indignant squawk.

His sister poked her head around his doorframe at that point. "So you're finally awake, Kazuma. About time. Breakfast is almost ready. Make sure you leave your pajamas in the basket and _not_ on the floor."

"Some 'good morning,' " he grumbled. "Fine, I'll make sure I keep my room clean. Happy?"

"Keep up that attitude and we'll find out how much you want breakfast. Now hurry up." She was already vanishing around the corner. "You're going to be late for school."

_Oh, that's right. School._

Uneasiness and restless thoughts tagged after him all the way through breakfast and along his walk through the district to the school building. Clouds drifted past his eyes and through his mind during the lecture as he spent the hours gazing out the window, thinking of nothing in particular and letting the uneasy feeling subsume his entire attention until he was aware of little else.

_I always enjoy the peace after a mission. What's wrong with me now? Is it because I fought with Urameshi, or because of Kurama? Or maybe it's because of the dream. Why can't I focus?_

The final bell startled him when it sounded, and as the other students scurried for the door he wondered for a brief moment how he had managed to spend the entire day half asleep without anyone bothering him. Had he gone to lunch? He might have; he wasn't hungry at all, and it looked like his lunch had been opened. He didn't really remember eating, though.

"Oh, well," he said aloud, and stood to gather his things. He almost slammed into Keiko in the same motion.

"Oh, hey, Keiko! Sorry, I didn't see you standing there."

"That's all right," she smiled.

"Listen, can I have your lecture notes tomorrow? I think the sensei said we're having a quiz." He put on a silly grin and laughed in embarrassment.

And then the feeling surged, and he became aware that this was part of what he should be doing: talking to Keiko.

"Sure," she was answering him. "Hey . . . can we talk for a minute before you go?"

He nodded, seeing her expression as subdued as his own had been, and followed her out of the classroom, trusting in the knowledge that his feelings were never, ever wrong.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Hiei didn't care for Kurama's attitude. Anger was fine. Grief was acceptable, as long as one kept it well-hidden. Self-pity was inexcusable.

An inner prompting told him to ignore it as Kurama's right -- it wasn't his job to make sure the fox didn't disgrace himself, only to keep him alive -- and he saw no logical reason not to heed it; however, he was picking up thought echoes, close as he was to his friend's soul, and it was driving him lunatic. His own stress and annoyance levels were up considerably. He had spent several hours trying to find a way to do something about it.

If the bloody fox would just go to sleep as his body demanded, Hiei's work would be simple. He would be glad of another chance to talk to Kurama directly, now that their first, rather unsettling meeting was past and over with. Kurama was not cooperating with this plan, to Hiei's depthless frustration. The kitsune was not happy, and seemed to take a perverse pleasure in making himself as uncomfortable as possible by neglecting to either eat or sleep. His body would be able to handle it for days, and Hiei was certain he would be driven to kill Koenma if it went on that long, since he couldn't really even hurt anyone else, save Botan who just wouldn't be as satisfying. His self-control in not damaging Reikai's heir was not aided by the fact that Kurama wanted very, very badly to rip the god's throat out.

On Hiei's behalf, no less.

The sanjiyan had, a day or so ago, thrown up his insubstantial hands in disgust and incomprehension. Why the hell Kurama thought _Koenma_ was responsible for Hiei's current state, Hiei could not fathom in the least. The Reikai Tantei had been betrayed, yes, and lied to, and it was not as if he didn't agree with and share in their fury at that, but apparently they were all in agreement that among Koenma's crimes was the indirect killing of Hiei. He suspected it was probably Yuusuke's bright idea, and now they were all raging about something totally pointless.

Hiei supposed he might have waited until a later date had he not thought Kurama was dead, but as for that being the actual _cause --_

He was suddenly very irritable.

This had gone on quite long enough. He scowled at his brooding corporeal companion, and tried the first thing that came to mind.

_Fox, WAKE UP!_

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kurama sat bolt upright, hair on end. He cast about on all sides, searching for threats of any kind. None.

_What was _that?

It had slid over his othersense like a cobweb, untraceable and disconcerting and altogether too brief -- a tiny wisp of presence that was somehow focused, as though it were hiding, yet declaring itself at the same time. And it was _miffed._

Here in the Makai, only a strong or peculiar presence would be detectable in such a fashion; weak demons passed under any radar but their own, due to the constant aura of demonic energy radiated by even the plants. Normally he would have searched for it; the instinct to seek it out had to be quashed with no small effort. Even less now than before could he afford to be sensed, what with both sides currently out for his blood and he without a safe haven to speak of. His only reasonable chance (small as it was) lay in stealth, which meant that, as when he had worked for Donari, he was limited in the use of his abilities and his senses.

_In plainer words, this is not good._

Oh, this was worse than not good. There was a furtive shadow lurking near him, and it was angry. He knew it couldn't be Donari or Gendou -- it wasn't their way to go by stealth -- but it could very well be a Reikai agent, a stray enemy with a grudge, or any one from a broad selection of extremely unfortunate things.

_I have to assume it knows where I am already. I need some cover._ The brooding he had done today had made his limbs nearly leaden; he moved with speed but little grace. There was a nearby cave that had once been one of his own haunts, the reason why he had chosen this place to disappear, and it was the work of a moment to reach it, slip inside its shallow overhang, and recharge the protections. This would buy him some time, although little -- the wards themselves were not exactly inconspicuous.

_All right. Now I need to find it before it zeroes in on me. A light trance should do._

He pulled his legs into a crossed position and spent the next half hour or so delicately probing with his mind for disturbances in the energy flow around the cave. It was strictly a short-range technique, and correspondingly less dangerous, so he took his time to see that he was fully satisfied with his thoroughness before he finally decided that he had probably lost his pursuer; there was nothing here --

-- except that bright tangle of energy, of course --

He started mentally as it entered his scanning field, and almost had to laugh as he recognized it. He began to release his trance-state and return to consciousness. _So. Finally it comes._

When he woke fully, Botan was floating above his shelter, waiting politely and silently for him to stir.

Her presence was what had roused him -- her slight, distinct energy signature nagged gently at his mind, not bothering to hide itself. It was more than familiar; he half-recalled it brushing him furtively in the recent past, tagging him over days and vanishing at odd intervals. It was not the anger he had sensed, but he now realized that the other fleeting shadow on his heels had been hers; that was one mystery solved. It made him smile, wryly, before he greeted her.

"Botan. What do you need?"

Her eyes relaxed almost imperceptibly. "I just wanted to see how you were," was her simple answer. "I've been given a few days' leave, and I thought I should make sure everyone was okay."

"Will you take back a report?"

She blinked. "No. Why would I?"

He barked a vulpine laugh. "Koenma cannot overlook my defection, especially as I am under his parole. I expected to sense his spies long before now, though I did not anticipate that I would be found so easily or openly as this." And now, then, would be the end; he would be taken back to the Reikai and forced to account. He smiled. "You do your job well, and faithfully. I would expect no less."

With those words, he gently let her know that he absolved her of any blame. He had seldom encountered a sweeter soul, and knew the conflict she must have felt, being ordered to lie to those for whom she cared deeply. He was long past the time when he would have blamed the servant for the deeds of the master.

Her eyes showed with wordless gratitude that she comprehended. "He's sent none at all," she told the redhead. "He's been far too caught up in trying to mend this situation, and his -- talk with Yuusuke was very hard on him. He hasn't said anything about you since he asked for my last report; I really think he doesn't care right now."

Kurama shrugged. "I find it difficult to care for his peace of mind."

"I understand," Botan said, "but you don't realize how this has been for him. Every lie he told you was to protect you, and he feels worse than anyone that he failed. What happened with Hiei -- wasn't supposed to happen."

She had such pain behind her words that it was impossible to doubt her. It also sounded like Koenma's warped reasoning to have made decisions like that. The kami didn't seem to learn from the past as he should, or he would have recognized the folly of such a volatile plan. Kurama did not know the particulars, nor was it necessary; it was clear to what end that folliy must come.

His anger did not dim, but it began, unwillingly, to thread itself with pity. The godling was learning a hard lesson through the betrayal of his team, one that he had apparently not foreseen.

"Won't you come back?" Botan asked suddenly, looking up at him from the section of turf she had been studying, tears threatening. "Are things really over?"

He shook his head. "I cannot. There is far too much between myself and Koenma that would make that impossible. I wish it were otherwise, but there is nothing I can do to restore things to the way they were, and I would not try only to fail. Let the break be clean; there is enough anger." He watched her face as he added, "I would like it if you would visit me, however. I enjoy your company." _And I have very little else._

"I would like that," she replied. Her hands tightened on her oar handle until the knuckles were white. "I'm going to find Yuusuke now. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

"No. Only -- don't tell him where I am for a while. I believe I require some more time alone."

"I understand."

She flew up high into the trees, and vanished.

Kurama sat in quiet for some time, reviewing the encounter. One thing stuck out -- Koenma was not, as he had thought, searching for him, nor was he likely to in the near future. That was unexpected good news. _Very_ good news, actually.

He almost felt like laughing. He had assumed the worst, and Inari had rewarded his caution with phenomenal, almost ludicrous luck. That was one major problem simply gone from his consideration, which would lessen his restrictions greatly. In fact, as he thought on it, he realized that it had been the one factor that had kept dashing all his half-formed plans for his next move. It was almost perfectly clear what he should do now. He didn't much like what it was -- but that was inconsequential.

It was finally time to take an offensive stance in dealing with his problems. While evading capture by the Reikai would have rendered it nigh impossible to pull off, Kurama now felt that it would be successful, if only partially, which would be enough. It would also afford him the slimmest of chances for survival.

_I suppose I knew it was inevitable the moment I fled from Donari's home,_ he reflected with a fatalistic smile beneath his concealing hair. _They will come for me, and I am not likely to survive the encounter. I have wasted much time trying to discover a way around it, which could have been better spent in planning. If I am to die in this confrontation, it will be on my own terms, and I may still leave an advantage behind for the rest of the Tantei._

It was high time he went hunting.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The single, kimono-clad figure accompanied her escorts into the deepest part of the village, head bowed, eyes averted so that she need not look into the faces of any of her people. The snow hardly crunched under her slight weight, and she was as silent as the scouts she followed, her shame palpable in the biting air.

There was no longer a central hut. Small teams of koorime were standing at even intervals, working with hands and energy to slowly build up the shattered walls from their crumbled and jagged foundations; the frozen clay was molded and fitted to cover any gaps and keep the new walls tight and strong in the absence of the branches that had supported the building since its first construction. More teams, composed primarily of scouts, were healing the damaged tree trunks and encouraging new branches to grow -- it would be years, perhaps more, before the trees fully recovered. One was already beyond saving.

The escort passed the construction and halted at a smaller hut—it belonged to a bonded pair of koorime, who had graciously given it up for the Elders' use until their own meeting hall was finished. One of them rapped on the door, and was admitted. The other gestured to her ward and followed close behind.

A rush of pleasantly chilled air bathed Yukina as she stepped inside with trepidation. She slipped off her sandals at the genkan, stepped forward and bowed as low as she could. The escort quietly departed.

"Elder."

The Elder nodded to her to sit down, and she knelt. This was the head of the council, by whose name Yukina had never heard her addressed -- this was the woman to whom she would defer for her punishment. She kept her eyes low, and accepted the proffered tea with a mumbled thanks.

"Yukina. Why do you return here?"

So there were to be few pleasantries. "I return so that I may be punished for what I have done," she said, still not looking up.

"Why do you wish to be punished?"

"I am responsible for the destruction of the meeting place. I must be called to account." She trembled inside to think of it. The words she had spoken to reassure Kazuma seemed trivial and hollow. They _could_ exile her forever from the village; though this crime might not warrant it, coupled with what she had done in the past, it was enough.

She had fled without permission, breaking the taboo on interacting with the outside world, to find her brother, who was never even to be spoken of in the presence of the young children of the village. She had been gone so long that she hardly remembered why she had left -- there were new huts, more expansive gardens, and a new meeting place, which she had destroyed by proxy.

"Is there anything else for which you must account?" The raspy voice was without mercy or expression.

Yukina's hands tightened around her teacup. "I must also be punished for running away, and defying the law."

There was a moment of silence, stretching on until she had to lift her head. The Elder was merely watching her, a thin rime of frost decorating her brow, impassive. Once Yukina was looking her in the eyes, she asked, "And do you know why the law exists?"

Not a surprising question, under the circumstances. "Yes, Elder. It exists to keep our people safe from the depredations of the outside world, and most especially of men."

"Yes. Even in these troubled times, the law may keep us safe. In the years since our floating city was abandoned, we have been forced back to barbarism. Out of respect for the land, we only freeze it, and leave its wildlife be -- our homes are no longer beautiful buildings, but crude huts that use the trees for pillars. Our peaceful women have become warriors out of necessity. Only the ice we create allows us to survive."

"But _I_ have lived in warmer climes, and not been harmed by the heat," Yukina said softly, falling naturally back into her people's archaic manner of speech. "I have dwelt among the humans, and known the best and worst they have to offer; I have known the most brutal torture from which our people fled, and I have known men gentler and kinder than I have ever been."

The temperature rose minutely, a sign of the Elder's sudden anger, and she flinched, losing the rest of what she had been about to say. But there was no harsh response, only a long, breathless minute of anticipation before the coolness returned to the room. "Do not be taken in by individual examples. Our people have avoided war and strife for thousands of years, only by ostracizing men from every aspect of our lives. Other places are in constant struggle, while we remain a society of peace and safety. One so young as you sees little beyond the moment -- when you are a mother, and responsible for the safety of a life other than your own, you will see what our ancestors saw."

"Yes, Elder. I am sorry."

Internally, she was anything but. She had seen the price that this way of life exacted, and wanted none of it for her children. Danger was preferable to stagnation and fear.

"And now, we will discuss your punishment," the Elder told her. "Tell me, what would you mete out to one who has committed such an offense as yours?"

"I -- I have not the wisdom for such a decision," she stuttered. "It is not my place!"

Almost gently, the older woman replied, "You will be an Elder yourself someday. If you do not have wisdom now, how will you acquire it?"

"Ano . . . through experience," was Yukina's hesitant answer. "Is this not the way of wisdom?"

"Wisdom is innate, my dear child. It must grow from an existing crystal, and spread as ice on a pane, until no transparencies remain. You will be as I am -- this is a test of your growth. What punishment would you bestow?"

Yukina opened her mouth, then closed it again, at a loss. She was strangely torn. Here, this was one of the Elders she had respected for much of her life, speaking words of praise and according her great honor, and she was yet wary; this was also the woman who had ordered her brother killed in his infancy for nothing more than being born a male, and had denied Hina's plea to depart forever with her children so that he might be spared.

_Do I truly wish that kind of wisdom?_

Did she have a choice?

She said, "I would assign a task of reparation, of healing, to mend the damage caused. Perhaps a task that would require much time and toil. It seems to me that I had good intentions, though they went awry, and so I would not deserve a harsh punishment." Looking up into the Elder's lined face, and wondering if she even spoke the truth, she added, "I only wish to repair the destruction I caused by bringing men into our village and failing to keep our laws. I would not do such a thing again."

The older woman paused to pour more tea, then rested her hands on her lap. "I agree with your judgment. You are a good child; you have merely tested your bonds, as all children do, and are forgiven your transgressions so long as you accept your atonement. Your task will be this: you must go and find a strong sapling of the kind our village surrounds, and bring it to replace the tree that we could not save with our meager healing power. You may continue your life outside our village, but you will return each month to care for it until it has grown stronger and taller than its predecessor, or until you bear your second child. You must spend one day here in contemplation; the following dawn will mark the time of your departure. Will you submit to the will of your Elder?"

"I will, and gladly," Yukina answered in the ritual words. "I am honored by your leniency, and will trust in your wisdom always."

And her own voice mocked her in the dark recesses of her mind:

_Liar._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The night was sultry and thick as the humidity built towards a downpour, and correspondingly dark and gloomy. Here in the forest that surrounded the temple steps, had Yuusuke been at all inclined to believe in vengeful ghosts any longer, he'd have been well and truly creeped out, especially at the lack of any wildlife sounds to be heard amidst the wind in the branches. Although, he speculated, there might be a stray demon or two skulking around under the cover of this darkest night, hiding itself in the quiet aura of energy this place exuded.

Blind in the dimness, he cursed his luck. There would have been at least moonlight to see by, but the storm hunkered down over the temple and brooded damply, biding its time until he was too far from shelter to avoid a soaking. He glared up at the inky sky and wished he had left sooner. It figured that the old lady didn't even have lamps lining the stairs -- that this was supposed to be a solitary stronghold that discouraged callers was not in the least mollifying.

He supposed he _could_ just ask for a room for the night, but he was thoroughly uncomfortable here under even normal circumstances, and the telling-off he had received this visit made the prospect of an overnight stay very unpleasant. _Stupid relic. Where does she get off telling me what I'm feeling?_

And he wasn't entirely certain she was wrong, which only made him more pissed off. _First my mom sends me to my room first thing when I get home, then Keiko yells at me for not being around again, and then the old lady gets all psychic and tries to be my shrink. And, to top it off, I'm gonna get rained on any minute now. What a perfect day _this _has been._

His life, he decided, was entirely too full of high-handed women. Even Botan pushed him around when she could get away with it, and Shizuru Kuwabara had a way of making him feel like a petulant child when she wanted to. Yukina was the only female he knew that never told him what to do, and that was only because she was probably still a kid by demon standards; she'd most likely grow into it soon anyway, and he'd be plagued at every turn. Then there would be nothing for it but to build a compound of his own and just never come out. A compound filled with video games, instant curry, and a direct portal to the demon world so he could beat up youkai whenever he got bored. A compound _without_ teachers or police or snobby rich kids. And with comic books. And also a TV.

A compound completely devoid of annoying, nagging, bossy females who had no business trying to get inside his head and inform him of what his feelings were even though they couldn't _possibly_ know because they _weren't_ him and he knew _exactly_ what he was feeling, thank you very much --

The sound of footsteps not his own jarred him from a very promising sulk and into alertness. He was near the bottom of the slope, and there was another figure walking in the humid darkness, coming up the steps as he was going down. He made out a flash of muted color: orange. He knew that color anywhere.

Kuwabara slowed, then stopped next to him, and he halted, eyes averted. _Great. This just keeps getting better. What the hell am I supposed to say to him? "Hey, what's up, sorry I punched you in the face yesterday?"_

"Urameshi."

He didn't really feel like looking up. "Yeah?"

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere special."

"Back home?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

There was a heavy pause. Yuusuke held back a sigh before he finally said, "I'll see you when our next case comes up, okay?" Sluggish limbs obeyed at last and he resumed his walk down the stairs, eyes on the stones at his feet, keenly aware of the dark-lit blue to his left as he passed. _Just let him not say anything -- just let him not hit me -- just let me get past and out of here --_

"Wait a minute, Urameshi."

_Dammit, dammit, dammit . . ._

"Yeah, what?"

"I just wanted to apologize."

It took Yuusuke a moment to make words come out. "I had to have heard that wrong. Come again?"

Kuwabara stepped down a few feet to stand next to him again, facing him this time, and spoke in quiet tones. "I thought a lot about things, and I think I figured out why you've been acting this way. Hell, most of the stuff you said to Koenma, I wanted to say myself. I guess you have a right to be angry and a right to say so, and I'm not gonna blame you for feeling the way you do. So I'm sorry I said what I did, and I won't fight about it anymore." He stopped for an instant, then said, "We've lost too many friends to let something stupid break up our team any more than it already is."

Yuusuke finally managed to look at him. His friend was solemn under the shadows, but no longer angry as he had been back in Koenma's office. He even gave Yuusuke a ghost of a grin when he saw his face.

_Shit. He's serious. And he's got no reason to be, either; but I can't throw this away. I might not get the chance to fix things again if I do._

"Hey -- thanks," he replied quietly. "I'm sorry, too. I haven't been thinking the clearest these last couple days, and I didn't really mean to punch you. I thought for sure you'd quit speaking to me," he added with a weak smile. "I kinda deserve it."

"You're still being stupid. I said I understand. That's why I'm here -- Keiko said you'd be at the temple, and I had a feeling I should find you before you did anything dumb."

Yuusuke snorted. "Like what?"

"Like going off to find Kurama by yourself."

"I wasn't going to," the shorter boy said, aggrieved. "For one thing, I don't want Koenma to know where he is, because then he'd be in trouble."

Kuwabara had begun walking down the steps, and Yuusuke followed without thought to hear his response. "Nah, Koenma's too busy with other stuff. He said he won't bother looking for Kurama if he doesn't want to get found. I think he really feels guilty about everything he did, so he'll probably let Kurama do whatever he wants for a while."

"Yeah, but after that, he'll find him and dump him in jail for skipping out on parole," Yuusuke growled. "He's just that much of an asshole. I wish I'd followed Kurama instead of going back up there."

As they reached the bottom and turned towards town, and the rain began to drive around them, the carrot-top halted again. "We really should go find him, Urameshi. Koenma told me some of what his mission was about, and there are some pretty strong demons that'll probably be looking for him. I hope _he_ hasn't done something stupid yet, like get captured."

"That bad, huh? It figures. He should be safe here in the city, though; there's a lot of places to hide, and he probably knows how to blend in better than anyone."

Kuwabara shook his head. "Koenma says his energy signature passed the gate twice yesterday -- once to this side, and then back. He's somewhere in the Makai now. Koenma doesn't know where 'cause he can only keep track of the gate."

Yuusuke swore luridly. "He told me about the demons he was spying on, and I thought for sure he'd at least hide out on this side of the barrier! Dammit!" _If he's not in the Ningenkai, where the hell does he think he's gonna go? And what about his mom -- oh, shit. Maybe that's why he's not hanging out here . . ._

Kuwabara made an offended noise and rounded on him suddenly. "If you knew they would be after him, how could you be not planning to find him? Were you just gonna sit on your ass and play video games? He's gonna need our help, you selfish rat!"

"Calm down, will ya? I told you I didn't want to get him in trouble in Spirit World. If he won't be in trouble, then yeah, we should go find him. Just _chill."_

His friend subsided with bad grace. "Fine, but you don't have to make it sound like it was obvious."

"You done grumbling?" Yuusuke shot him a dark, disgusted look. "We've got a lot of Makai to cover."

"Duh, of course I'm ready! Bet I beat you there!"

And inside Yuusuke's gut, relief spread like acid. Somehow, though the confirmation of Kuwabara's continued friendship should have relaxed the painful knots a little, it only twisted them tighter.

Here was one more thing he could still lose.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

_That night, Kurama awoke to find himself among the familiar, sunny trees of the park once again. There was a layer of dew on the grass, and even a stray crow cawing in the fragrant air -- but he knew why he was here._

_"Hiei!" he called, already furious. "Hiei, where are you?"_

_A dark shape detached itself from a tree branch and appeared at his side. "Impatient today, I see. What do you want?"_

_"You," Kurama said through a rather tight jaw, "are in _my _dream. What do _you _want, other than apparently to be captured as quickly as possible?"_

_An infuriating shrug. "Just a word or two. I have a request to make, and a few questions to ask."_

_"Oh?" was the kitsune's arch reply._

_Hiei got immediately to the point, turning to face his comrade with penetrating ruby eyes that positively brimmed with irritation. "Will you kindly stop sitting on your tail and moping like a lovelorn ningen female? I wasn't even aware that spirits could get headaches until you began this idiocy, and I've endured more than enough."_

_Looking down at his short, ill-tempered visitor, Kurama experienced a moment of pure, lucid rage. After what he had just experienced with his mother, he did _not _need a blunt, snide commentary on his reaction, nor was he willing to put up with one for the sake of Hiei's company._

_"If you don't enjoy the thoughts on which you eavesdrop, you may leave." His voice would have chilled a gemstone brittle. "I fail to see why you are here in the first place, as neither of us had any way of knowing I wasn't being chased by the Reikai until last night."_

_"And where else do you suggest I go? I'm using your aura to cover my own, and I'm as safe this way as I would be anywhere."_

_Kurama went nearly white. "What?"_

_"Hn. How do you think I was eavesdropping? I was so close to your fool head that I couldn't help it."_

_"And you took this liberty without permission," the fox stated flatly. This meant Hiei would know _everything _he had been thinking, and most of those thoughts were _not _things he would have shared willingly._

_"If you had stopped being stupid long enough to sleep a while, I'd have gotten it first," Hiei riposted neatly. "I've made my request, and now I'll ask my questions. Do you really think your plan will do anything besides get you killed faster?"_

_Kurama's anger cooled abruptly, though his newfound bitterness did not wane. Here was Hiei's real purpose in entering his dream: he was upset by the plan Kurama had devised during the evening, and in typical Jaganshi fashion was demanding an explanation. He remembered perforce their last dream-meeting, and softened just a bit further, even as he resolved not to be nearly as pathetically emotional this time._

_"No," he said succinctly._

_Hiei growled in annoyance. "Then why are you still considering it? I thought we discussed you staying alive. Are you that anxious to find out what real death is like, or are you just hunting for a new body since this one's become too inconvenient?"_

_"Don't insult me without cause, Hiei. I have no options left besides catching them off-guard or waiting to be found and killed. This way, I become unpredictable, and may perhaps surprise them into displaying a weakness."_

I have already shown you all of mine. I can only hope you won't use them against me.

_"Other than finding a new body, you mean," Hiei said, eyes suddenly opaque._

_Kurama felt his own eyes widen a trifle. "You can't seriously be suggesting that I become another human child."_

_Shrug. "Or a demon child. Youkai bodies last longer."_

_"Hiei!"_

_"You didn't hesitate to choose that over death when you took this form," Hiei pointed out mercilessly. "What's stopping you now?"_

_That brought Kurama up short. He had already renounced his human life -- and Hiei knew it. The fire demon was right. A youkai would not hesitate._

So what continues to hold me back no longer has meaning. I cannot play the game of human ethics in this world; already it threatens my survival to try. So I must cast that aside, and think rationally -- would a new body really be the best course of action?

_Hiei was watching him from behind guarded eyes, but Kurama could read those eyes as no others could. They were practically demanding that he acquiesce: Hiei did not want him to die. He'd known that since they had become Tantei, but Hiei had never spoken it, nor tried to be overprotective, and certainly not at his own expense. And yet here he was, deliberately risking his soul no matter his claim of relative safety, to see that Kurama remained alive._

_He had considered this notion before, and had disregarded it out of hand, giving in to self-indulgent moping (to use Hiei's term). It had taken Botan's visit to knock him back to sense, whereupon he had immediately overreacted again to Hiei's presence. The intense anger was as uncharacteristic of him as his weepy internal soliloquies, and he let it die completely._

I _have_ been a fool.

_"No," he finally replied, reluctantly. "I cannot. Koenma would find me easily now that he knows what to look for; whether or not he is interested in arresting me at the moment, that will not last. I have broken my parole and my agreement, and I would not add to my sentence by fleeing in such a fashion. He might even count it as murder."_

_A flash of something crossed Hiei's expression, carefully retracted before it could be identified. "I see. So you're determined, then?"_

_A smile, wry and brief. "Do you see an alternative?"_

_"Hn. I suppose not. So what do you want me to do, since I'll be tagging along anyway?"_

_"Will you?"_

_"Like I said, I'm not safe anywhere, so I may as well go somewhere interesting."_

_Kurama considered. "I suppose I would ask you to carry a message for me."_

_Hiei glared sharply. "Any message you can't carry yourself isn't my problem."_

_"Indeed. It's Yuusuke's problem, if he doesn't receive it. Eventually the others will have to fight my enemies, and I want any tactical information I learn to be delivered to them in order to increase their chances of survival." He watched as Hiei thought on this; the Jaganshi's expression settled into irritated lines._

_"So you want me to be a courier. But not to your ningen family?"_

_"No. Why?"_

_"Don't be flippant with me. It will only dull your fighting edge if you don't close off that route for good. Have you lost what little sense you possess?"_

_Kurama winced at the biting tone, but only internally; it was time he stopped showing his weaknesses to anyone. "I suppose I have," he gave as his reply. "I have been known to operate at less than my full capacity for reason where my mother is concerned. Do you have a point?"_

_Hiei had a point, albeit a brutal one. "Is she still your mother, then?"_

_A bitter smile. "Having been there, you should know."_

_"Stop dodging the question. You know why I'm asking."_

_"No. She is no longer mine to claim as kin." He stared Hiei down. "Satisfied?"_

_The sanjiyan nodded perfunctorily. "Good enough. It was necessary to establish that before I agreed to any plans that could get you killed."_

_"And it matters less, now that I have no home in the Ningenkai?" Then Kurama smiled thinly. "I suppose it does at that. Then you do agree?"_

_Hiei looked a bit sour, and flicked his bangs from his eyes in an unconscious, familiar gesture of aggravation. Kurama was strangely, vindictively mollified to know that he could still cause Hiei discomfiture. "I'll do as you ask. But I'd better not have to. If I find that you've acted foolishly, expect no sympathy from me." He looked piercingly at Kurama. "A single advantage unexploited, a single careless move, and you've wasted my time."_

_Kurama gave him an entirely vulpine grin. "Inari forbid."_

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was just beginning to be light out, and Kurama was awake with the dawn, stalking his meal with renewed energy after so long a fast. There was little game to be had, so he would probably be hunting for some time, before beginning preparations to enact his plan.

Hiei was less than satisfied, but not altogether upset with this development as he had been before. It now sounded like a legitimate strategy -- and Kurama was now ready to execute it as such. In his previous mental state, he would have been completely unfit.

The fire demon was almost relieved. During their first talk the fox had been embarrassingly forward with his usually well-guarded emotions -- it had been so very _ningen._ This time, however, he was reacting to pain in proper vulpine fashion: by becoming quiet and dangerous, and just a touch vicious as well. It was a change of balance to approach him so warily, but it was a shift that Hiei appreciated well enough. He was far more accustomed to this sort of interaction, and was able to get his points across more clearly and in less time. He hoped it lasted.

And something was yet wrong.

It was too sudden. Hiei had low hopes for Kurama's rationality when it came time to fight. He had let himself backslide into ningen vulnerability and was no longer used to reacting quite as a youkai should -- it had been nearly a year since he had spent a significant measure of time in the Makai on any other errand than seed-gathering. Most of his time while not on a case was spent lazing about with Yuusuke and Kuwabara, letting their influence creep into his own behavioral pattern until even his youko form was less a ruthless demon than an exceptionally cruel human, albeit with some unique methods of torture. Hiei knew he would now balk at things that even months ago he would have done in an eyeblink. He would need to quickly regain his dispassion if he wanted to have any decent chance at survival.

That, he supposed, was something to speak of when Kurama took his planned nap at noon. There was that final opportunity for strategy, which he did not intend to squander. Kurama knew the terrain around the demons' home; if he could describe it, the two of them could work out tactics to maximize --

A bolt of energy slammed through Hiei's Jagan, blinding him. He lost his grip on Kurama's soul-shield and drifted free, clutching ghostly hands to his forehead to blot out the sensation. What the _hell_ was this -- his Jagan was dormant, it was _dead_ as he was!

But he remembered the dream --

_Yukina!_

She was in danger. He could hear her frantic heartbeat and taste her fear on every nerve; _Where is she?_

"Kurama!" he called out, but Kurama could not hear him. He was hunting, he was awake. He would have to be asleep -- Hiei didn't have the ability to connect a telepathic link any longer—not that he hadn't tried, but that had already failed before.

And then, layering itself on the knowledge of Yukina's peril, there came the knowledge of his own.

The Reikai agents he had been hiding from -- they were dangerously near, and he was suddenly aware that he was hidden no longer. He could not afford to be exposed; he was back in his aural shelter within a second, but it was a second too long. The feeling grew stronger, not weaker. They were coming.

_Too slow!_ He cursed. They had located him, and would be here in only a short time, and then he would be forced to run. _But I wonder -- can they get to me under Kurama's soul? What would happen if they tried?_

Regardless, _none_ of this was getting help to Yukina.

_I have to communicate with Kurama somehow. _He'd gotten his attention before, but the kitsune hadn't read anything but anger; his senses were dulled by concentration, and it was unlikely that he'd manage to get anything across now. But perhaps the Jagan, active as it was -- but it wasn't meant for communication -- dammit, he had no time!

He had to try anyway. _KURAMA! GET TO YUKINA! PAY ATTENTION, DAMN YOU!_ But it was clearly no use. Kurama didn't even twitch, eyes on a small rodent of some kind and thinking of nothing else. Hiei kept trying, yelling in as close to his normal telepathic wavelength as his weirdly active Jagan would allow, and meeting with no measurable results.

And then he was out of time.

Two beings materialized out of the air in front of him. They were tall and willowy, with black shrouds for eyes and no other facial features to speak of; in their hands they carried each two enormous, thin silver hoops.

Hiei regarded them warily, faced with something entirely outside his experience. Under any other circumstances he would have attacked, assessed their capabilities and then either finished them or fled -- but certain of his current limitations, his lack of youki foremost, made that familiar strategy unfeasible. He debated attempting to run as they lifted their hoops and advanced. His phenomenal speed had come mostly from his youki and his physical conditioning, both of which he was without, and he had no idea how fast these beings could travel. If he ran, things could get very uncomfortable, very rapidly. But if he didn't --

Damn. He might drag Kurama into it unintentionally.

He snarled his annoyance and took off, arrowing in the direction of the sun to make use of its light as a blinder. That was assuming those big eyes responded to normal light at all, but Hiei would use what means he had to get out of this predicament. If he could only reach the cover of the Ningenkai for long enough to lose them, he might yet be able to aid Yukina --

They were in front of him, hoops held high, and he instantly changed directions without even having to correct for inertia. It was, however, clearly futile; he acknowledged this even before the first hoop caught him around the astral neck, slamming him to a halt and causing him a great deal of pain in the process. The second one looped around his arms, the next his legs, and the last around his waist. He was snapped into immobility and helplessness in a single second.

Furious, he tested his bonds as the beings calmly began to tow him away. It felt much like his own Jagan tie curse, in its more powerful incarnations. The hoops, which had constricted around him, were flexible enough to avoid being excessively painful, and as expected were not within his power to sunder.

The Jagan pulsed an urgent blue. Hiei struggled anyway.

They were back within sight of Kurama, who was still eating; Hiei made a last-ditch effort to reach him.

_Fox! Find Yukina!_

And a gate opened, and the beings slid noiselessly through it, collapsing it behind them.

* * *

_Okay, I'm aware I'm very mean to Hiei. And to Kurama. Bad things happen to them a lot. That, I'm afraid, probably won't change anytime soon. However, I don't intend for this to be all gloom and doom -- you'll see what I mean in the next few chapters._

_I really enjoyed writing Yuusuke for this chapter, by the way. He's fun when he's petulant._


	10. Backswing

Part 10:  
Backswing

_Hah! It's finished! Please tell me how the pacing is, since that's the major thing I'm worried about in this chapter, and otherwise generic reviews are fine; I enjoy hearing how well you think I'm doing, even if you think I suck. I've had people tell me that one before, too -- but in doing so they validated my existence, rendering them cherished and forever loved. So go ahead, be mean. I can take it._

_Note: Long chapter. Freaking long chapter._

* * *

Studying the case files on his desk was an engrossing project, and one which Koenma had been at for some hours now. Sheaf upon sheaf of neatly stacked papers began on one side of the work surface and ended on the other, a pair of massive 'Reject' and 'Consider' piles that were, at this point, about equal in height.

Here was the case file on an A-class demon with a few routine murders to his name; nothing very special, having been killed by his own partner and duly sentenced to the mediocre punishment his kind warranted. He had been powerful, however, which made him a decent candidate so far as Koenma's purpose was concerned. His file was placed on top of the consider pile, delicately so as not to upset the precarious stack.

This file was on a living subject who had been of minor use to the Reikai in the past, but hadn't been especially strong. That made him usable, but not ideal, and after a moment of consideration, Koenma set the folder in the reject pile.

_I need someone who's used to handling power. _While any youkai would do in a pinch, it would _not_ do to have an inexperienced candidate ruin the entire mission. The selection had to be carefully considered. He had already been forced to reject his most vital criterion -- he was not certain he could trust any of his choices.

The Tantei were not much better at this point, but at least he could be sure that self-interest and/or altruism would have kept them in line. He had no such assurances in dealing with anyone else, not even his own employees, most of whom were too cowardly or bureaucratic to be considered in any case. But the Tantei were unsuitable for various reasons: Kuwabara was human, Yuusuke was human, Kurama was pseudo-human (at least his biology was), and Hiei was dead and staying that way. Besides being less than nominally powerful, Yukina alone was not trustworthy enough to be given the task -- she still had suspect ties to her village despite her flight from their restrictive culture. Koenma did _not_ trust the koorime, who were entirely too hidebound for his taste, and even an unknown quantity would be better than risking their meddling.

_If the mission failed, it would be only a short step to outright war against all men -- again. My father was cleaning up that mess for decades._

That, of course, hadn't quite made it into official koorime history . . . and wasn't likely to. A society built on the idea that men were the sole destroyers of peace wouldn't have done very well if that particular tale had been preserved. He was fairly certain that the Elders were the only ones who knew, and that they might resort to the same means one day if they saw fit.

Not that Koenma especially minded the koorime when he didn't have to deal with them directly; they rarely did anything he could even call interesting. The most noteworthy event in recent years was their abandonment of the floating island, which he still hadn't figured out the reason for. Even the predictable koorime, it seemed, could do bewildering things.

He knew they had been grooming Yukina to be an Elder, which rendered her out of the question, and left him with these tall, tall stacks of paperwork.

_Who knew being a kami would be so very tedious?_

He idly leafed through the remaining files, riffling the stack for one that looked interesting in some way. There were an inordinate number of condemned dead in here, along with live prisoners who had been locked up for more than a century. Neither prospect seemed appealing to him; give a proven troublemaker the key to destroying every known plane of existence? Why not hand out scalpels to delinquents and tell them to play nicely? Koenma didn't want to hand over that power to anyone he didn't trust implicitly, as it was not only power over the worlds but power over him -- but his hands were all but bound. The item was absolutely useless without a wielder.

He could also consider some non-condemned demons, he supposed, but it left him with no leverage to make them do what he wanted -- he could hardly waive a punishment if there weren't one already assigned. And youkai weren't exactly the heroic type. Even Hiei and Kurama had had to be coerced into becoming Tantei, though the unusual sense of loyalty they felt for Yuusuke had replaced their initial motivation. An honor code of any kind, much less as stringent as theirs, was an anomaly at best in the Makai. Only a few select groups were known to possess one for certain, and they --

Oh.

"George, come here!"

He snapped his fingers when the flunky didn't appear instantly before him, his thoughts outrunning his ability to articulate them. Just as George burst through the side door and slid to a puffing stop, he barked, "Go find me the files on all the Shinobi who were at the Tournament. Move it!"

"But sir!" the oni huffed, "I mean -- there's something awful going on --"

And Ayame appeared with a _crack_ of displaced air and blurted, "Sir, the rogue demons are on the move, and they've resumed their attacks!"

A moment of blind surprise; the paperwork was swept aside with a sharp movement of his arm, and he barked, "Get Yuusuke right away! I don't care how you find him, just do it! And _you!"_ he directed at George. "I said _get me those files!"_

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Yuusuke's pocket beeped.

"What's that?" Kuwabara asked, pointing.

Yuusuke knew what it was. A hand clenched tight moved to take it out, and then stopped. "It's nothing." He kept walking.

"Isn't that the mirror thingy Botan gave you?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So answer it!"

"What for? I have nothing to say to whoever is calling."

The larger boy was in front of him, halting his progress through the dry grass. "It might be important! You should at least make sure it's not Kurama or something!"

With a roll of his eyes, Yuusuke stepped around him. "This is his mirror, dumbass. He gave it to me because I broke mine. The only ones who could be calling are Botan and the toddler, and I don't wanna talk to them."

The beeping ceased then. Kuwabara grimaced in anger. "Look what you did, it stopped! You could have given it to me to answer instead of ignoring it, y'know!"

"Fine," was the reply, as Yuusuke kicked a rock into a high arc. He tossed the mirror at his friend. "Call them back. I don't care."

A gust of wind almost make Kuwabara fail to catch it. There was quite a bit of wind here; it was an open area of grass and dust, and it was boring to walk through. Here in the western sector of the Makai, where Yuusuke thought Kurama might have headed, it was quite a bit colder than the eastern, since it bordered koorime country. This was the first open space they had seen in hours -- before that, there had been the equally boring phalanx of Makai trees, with their inconvenient roots designed to trip passersby and their gloomy visages under the overcast sky. But at least there had been something to block this accursed wind which stung their eyes and made Yuusuke more surly than he'd any reason to be.

_I. Hate. Makai._

His preferences didn't make much of a difference, though. He'd been stuck out here all day, and all expectations pointed towards being here not only for the rest of the evening, but maybe days longer. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to restrain himself from outright punching Kurama once they found him, just on principle, for having put him through this pissant search through this pissant countryside.

The communication device was already beeping again even as Kuwabara opened it. With a slightly startled frown, he jabbed a button at random, which cut the sound off but did not appear to do anything else; the little light was still flashing to alert a call. Putting a hand to his forehead, Yuusuke sighed deeply. "It would have been nice to know that thing had a mute button. You want the big blue one, Kuwabara. The red's to hang up."

"I know that, I've seen you use it," the carrot-top grumbled, hitting the blue circle with a touch more force than was necessary. The tiny screen flickered, and Yuusuke looked away to study the ground just as Botan's tinny voice burst over the speaker.

"Kuwabara! Is Yuusuke with you?"

He looked taken aback by this outburst, and blinked, glancing over at his friend as if to confirm his presence before answering. "Well, yeah, I --"

"Something terrible has happened!" she continued, railroading his attempt at words with a frantic note in her voice. "I went to pick up Yukina from the ice village, and when I got there, I found it destroyed!"

Kuwabara gasped. "Yukina!"

_"What?"_Yuusuke spun, unceremoniously snatched the mirror from his hand and yelled, "How long ago did you see this?"

"Just a few minutes," said the disheveled Botan-head on the screen. "I didn't see Yukina anywhere, but I saw --" She faltered. "I saw -- some of the others. None of them were alive."

_Holy shit -- when the hell did this happen? Yukina just went there a day ago -- _"You're still there? We'll be there as fast as we can!"

"No, I'll come get you -- where are you?"

"We don't have time for that!"

"It'll be faster than running!" she retorted. "I can gate us all there!"

"Fine, whatever! We're west of the ice village, in a place with lots of grass; there are trees behind us and in front of us about half an hour both ways." _I hope that's good enough._

It was. "I know where that is, give me just a moment to get my bearings and I'll get to you."

The link cut out.

"Come on, Kuwabara!" Yuusuke shouted immediately. "Get ready to --" And he observed Kuwabara's absence, and the presence of a dust trail leading straight towards koorime territory. "K'so! Get back here!"

It was Botan who yanked the itinerant boy back to Yuusuke's position so that they could all gate to the village together via the Reikai, arriving (as she had said) much faster than they could have run. The place was little more than a smoking, smoldering hole in the ground; the ice and snow were melted for tree-lengths around, and what remained was slowly disappearing, its source gone. Swatches of bare dirt arched in random crescent patterns over the entire area, evidence of massive energy-based attacks that had doubtlessly killed hundreds -- there was a strong odor of burning, blood, and the unique, so familiar smell of death.

Yuusuke gaped at the devastation. What could possibly have caused _this? _He knew the koorime were capable of defending themselves against even high-level youkai if need be -- they had almost had his hide during the artifact theft -- so it must have been a whole group of demons to have wiped out the entire village. There weren't even any arrows on the ground; they had been set upon suddenly and slaughtered before they could mount a defense. For such a paranoid society to have been so totally surprised seemed impossible.

And Kurama's words entered his mind without being bidden.

_"Do you recall the killings near the eastern sector of Makai? Hiei spoke of them before I left."_

"Yukina!" Kuwabara hollered, cupped hands around his mouth, totally focused on finding his declared true love. "Yukina, where are you? Yukinaaaaa!"

Yuusuke shook himself, and elected to take a more direct approach by planting his feet, concentrating, and beginning to scan for her youki. It was a familiar exercise, even easy, but he knew he was minimally sensitive at best -- but it was still enough to wake the first stirrings of panic when at first there was nothing. His chest constricted painfully; but as his breathing became quick with fear, he sensed a whisper, an answer . . . and it grew stronger ever so slightly as he focused on it. But he couldn't quite tell where it was.

He squinted, as if it would help his ability to sense ki, and tried harder. It was just at the edges of his tracking range; she must be injured or weak for it to be so low, unless she was somehow far away --

And he realized he was being stupid. He had a walking ki detector right next to him.

"Kuwabara, search for her ki! I think I sense it somewhere here, but I can't get a lock on it!"

The orange-haired boy, fifteen feet away and scrabbling over a mound of debris, didn't even answer, only stopped yelling and closed his eyes. A bead of sweat ran down his furrowed brow as he took a long, long moment to search.

Yuusuke's heart sank. If it was taking this long for even Kuwabara to find her, she might be --

And the other student's eyes snapped open. "Here!" He pointed. "Her ki is over here!" He made a dash for the feeling's source, and Yuusuke was close behind him.

They had to pick their way through broken trees, burning thatch and shards of blackened clay for more than fifty feet before Yuusuke began to be able to track the feeling. By then, they were practically on top of it. Hidden by a ravaged building, under the jutting branches of a fallen tree, there crouched a tiny, weeping figure, tying a band of blue cloth around the waist of another who lay prone on the churned-up earth. She was filthy, ragged, and less than half clothed -- but the crimson hairpiece was unmistakable.

Yuusuke seized her shoulder. "Yukina!"

A wild-eyed look, like a startled deer, dissolving slowly into lucidity as Kuwabara, then Botan repeated her name. Enormous, haunted red eyes widened, filled with more tears, and shut tightly as Yukina threw herself against Yuusuke's chest, sobbing a trail of gems down his tunic.

He sighed to release the tension that had built and put an arm around her, awkwardly. He raised his head. Relief churned his gut and made speech difficult. "Botan, can you check for survivors? Here, you'd better take her, Kuwabara." It took a short interval to unlatch Yukina from himself and transfer her to the other boy, but she didn't seem to notice.

"What'll you do, Urameshi?" Kuwabara accepted the weeping burden as carefully as he would a priceless vase and made sure she was comfortably sheltered in his arms.

"I'll see if I can spot some sign of whoever did this -- they can't be far away."

"Good. Hey, shh, it's all right, Yukina . . ."

Yuusuke stood and was still for a moment, letting his eyes drift from where his teammate was murmuring comfort to the stricken koorime and past to the one she had been tending; he could tell the woman was probably only moments from death. He was no healer, and could do nothing for her -- and if Yukina could not help her, she had no chance at all. Why Yukina hadn't used her healing talent, he wasn't sure, unless she'd had no energy left. _That would explain why I almost didn't sense her. _But if she had used all her energy, there should be survivors that she had used it on. Botan would find them.

This had all been too close. The feeling of dread would not leave him, and he let himself indulge an all-over shiver that made his head toss uncontrollably. There was very little doubt in his mind that this massacre was directly their fault -- assuming he was correct that this had been done by the demons that had been tracking Kurama. That was the only reason he could see why the insular koorime would have been anyone's target. Kurama had been here, and Yuusuke had brought him; and now the koorime had been brutally slaughtered. It didn't seem likely to be a coincidence.

_I just keep screwing up people's lives, don't I?_

For his own part, he hardly knew where to being looking for clues. The ruin was so widespread that he couldn't think of a good starting point; so, he started where he was standing, and began scanning his surroundings in more detail. It was the least his conscience would allow him to do.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

In the end, as the sun rose high into the sky, he found mostly nothing. Beyond noticing two different patterns of wreckage, which only added to his off-the-cuff theory, his inexperience in being a detective in the literal sense was too limiting for him to have much success. He was able to pick out a set of big, clawed footprints, but that could be any generic youkai one might encounter in this place, and might have been something that had strolled by after the attack to scavenge the destruction. Most of the devastation looked to have been quick and massive, coming from only a few sources rather than a large group -- but Yuusuke couldn't for the life of him make a guess as to what sort of attack it had been, other than that it hadn't been an elemental attack like Hiei's fire or Yukina's ice.

There were no easy footprints leading away, and indeed no trail of any kind to indicate where the attackers had gone.

_Detective, ha. I suck._

While Kuwabara got Yukina calmed down and halfway coherent, he eventually gravitated to Botan and helped her locate the survivors. He used his weak ki sense and she her awareness of those near death to seek them out, underneath branches and leaves and even entire clay walls, where such were intact.

Besides Yukina, there were six.

They had laid them out next to each other in a cleared spot of ground. Most of them were in need of immediate attention, although two had only disabling injuries that probably wouldn't put them in immanent danger. Yukina had clearly expended her energy on the more seriously wounded ones, saving them from sure death. She watched them with big, empty eyes, and only shook her head when Kuwabara said her name.

"We're gonna have to take them to Genkai." Kuwabara was settling the last of them into a more comfortable position. "She's the only one else who has really powerful healing."

"I agree, but I can't carry this many on my oar," Botan told them, speaking more directly to Yuusuke. "You'll have to stay here with three of them; then I can take the other three, Kuwabara and Yukina. I'll come back for you when I've dropped them off at Genkai's."

"Sure, Botan. Take these ones -- they're hurt the worst. Just hurry back." He looked at Kuwabara. "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked, indicating Yukina with a tilt of his head.

"Yes," Yukina answered for herself. Her voice was soft, but she met his eyes well enough; though obviously exhausted, she was no longer hysterical. "I'm fine. I'll go with Kazuma and help Genkai-baba with the healing."

Botan made a sharp noise in her throat. "You'll do no such thing! You need rest, Yukina! You barely have any energy left at all!"

"I know that," was her quiet answer. "I can still carry and fetch, and I will be able to remain awake for another few hours if I need to." Yukina glanced up at Kuwabara, who looked like he was about to object, and gave him a gray-tinged smile. "Don't worry about me, Kazuma. I'll be all right. This is what I need to do."

His dissent averted, he only looked away, and nodded.

"Hurry up," Yuusuke said. He found his own voice just as subdued. "We need to get them to Genkai faster than this. I'll be right here when you get back."

He watched them go, crouched in the blackened, ash-blended dust, wondering if the women who lay near him would live to see the next dawn; wondering if anything he did would ever be enough to make up for what he had caused. He didn't have much hope --

But then, he never had.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"So it was a waste of time. We did all that for nothing!"

"Did we? We annexed another section of territory, did we not?"

"But we didn't find the fox or the jewel. Now we don't have any idea where to look."

"The igurka are working on it; if they were trying any harder, they would drop dead. I've seen to that. Have some patience."

"That's what you said days ago! They can't even find out who he was working for, and you still think they can find where he's hiding?"

"Of course they can, idiot. His employer is a complex bit of intrigue, but any fool can track down a rare fox like that. Now do be quiet, I'm thinking."

"Always thinking and doing nothing. When are we going to take over the Makai like we planned?"

"You sound like a child whining for a sweet. We don't have enough information yet, so we have to wait."

"Who cares about information? We're not weak anymore!"

"And who made us strong? You're very little without me. Don't be a nuisance or I'll dispose of you -- or did you also forget who is stronger?"

"I . . . no."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Do you think I can kill that spy now? He's been whimpering again, and he doesn't know any more. I want some food so I don't have to go hunting today."

"Lazy brute. Fine, go ahead. But don't take forever about it."

The voices halted, and there was a scraping noise as of furniture being shifted over uneven floor. Stomps, heavy-footed rather than angry, progressed away from Kurama's hiding place, and vanished as a door was closed.

Those voices were voices he had hoped never to hear again. Hoped, in vain; and now he strained to make out their words. They were speaking of him -- not surprising. He was the one youkai that had escaped from them since their ascension as prevalent powers, the one fugitive from thier justice. In their place, he would have been hunting him, too, with all his resources brought to bear, if only to make an example.

It was not reassuring that they were operating at a similar tactical level. Then again, he knew Donari, and knew her to possess uncanny intellectual facilities for one of her true power level -- odd that he had never quite realized what her true form was until he had seen the artifact and pieced together much of the puzzle. He had taken her intelligence for granted, as most youkai with such power had wits to match, but she was one of the extremely rare weak ones who had a mind to compensate for their bodies' inadequacy. Gendou would certainly never have gotten anywhere without her, though he suspected that the tusked demon had been stronger by a significant margin before they had acquired the artifact. Given that the artifact had been sundered, Kurama suspected that she had balanced their power in her favor by giving him a smaller portion of the overall whole -- which meant she had found it first.

He would have to see if he could find out where and how, before the battle was over, whichever way it went.

_I mustn't become too optimistic, by granting my chances a greater percentage than they have earned. Though of what use the information will be, now that it cannot be shared with Yuusuke, I do not know. I can only hope I will find a way._

As for his resources -- they were fewer than expected.

Kurama didn't know exactly what had happened to Hiei that had caused him to miss their last opportunity to plan, but he had a fair idea, and he was certain it had happened because of the Jaganshi's insistence on staying near him. He was most likely in Reikai custody by now. It was Kurama's best guess that he had been taken sometime in the early morning, when the energies connecting the Makai and Reikai were at their strongest point.

Either way, no matter how he chose to view the matter, he was responsible.

_I am in this position because I have been a monumental idiot who ought to have been drowned as a kit. Hiei is in the predicament that he is because I am in this position. By proxy, I have landed Hiei in a cell for eternity, and it is a debt that even karma cannot adequately pay._

His unfailingly merciless logic brought him time and again to the same conclusion, and he knew he was not wrong. His plan had begun to cohere around that fact, and while he had every intention of honoring his promise that he would do his best to survive, he had a feeling he would regret the outcome either way.

In many ways, he owed Hiei his life, and to be denied the chance to give it was a unique punishment for his foolishness. The code of ethics he followed was in conflict -- he was required to give his life in payment for his mistakes, but he was also required to live, by both his promise and the awareness that his death would only cause more pain. Hope was a surreal, mutative thing that left him neither anxious nor disinterested in what was to come, for he no longer knew which end he hoped for.

But this would have to serve, this subterfuge and the attack he planned to follow. It was only a matter of moments; the two youkai had already given away their positions with conversation, and all that remained was to ascertain the most propitious angle from which to spring. He had been pleasantly (as a relative term) surprised to have found them in the first place he had looked, and the last place he had expected them to be: at home. He knew from their talk that they had only just been out looking for him, and that they had destroyed a settlement of some kind, but they weren't being specific enough for him to know where. He devoutly hoped that it had not been the ice village or any of the tiny hamlets near his foxholes -- he had enough blood on his conscience already.

More shifting wood, and a slight thump; Kurama pricked his ears and leaned a bit forward. He was on the western side of the house, where the setting sun would backlight him and make him more difficult to distinguish amongst the other shadows, and the noise revealed that Donari was to his right. He considered this moment -- _Is it advantageous enough? Perhaps. But I think I may circle around and see where Gendou has gone. He is the weaker, and they have separated, and that is the most advantageous situation of all, should I have the ability to make full use of it._

He crept around the side of the house, away from where he heard Donari, keeping his ki so low as to be undetectable, even lower than when he had been undercover. He was a patient fox -- in the literal sense, at the moment. He had quickly seen the benefit in gaining complete control over his form, and though it had been a long and difficult process, he had earned the ability to take any one of three forms: human, youko, and true fox. As yet he had used the latter primarily for hunting (neither of the other two forms particularly enjoyed the taste of raw meat), but it was worth it now to be as inconspicuous as possible.

He poked his muzzle around the corner, scenting the youkai before he saw him. He also scented blood, and was unfortunate enough to get into position just in time to see his former master gut a humanoid figure with his tusks, lifting the form over his head and letting more blood splatter onto the ground. _The spy that he spoke of? _It seemed quite likely -- and he abruptly recognized the unique clothing style. It was a Reikai agent.

His mind worked quickly. He had been the last agent of which he knew -- which meant Koenma had sent this one after he had fled the mission. His gut grew just a little cold. _How much did this agent know? Did I ever come into contact with her -- him? _He narrowed his eyes, and identified the decapitated agent after a long moment as indeed male. He was duly relieved; neither of the two present at his briefing had been men. That didn't mean he had known nothing, however. Whatever he had told the demons, it had been enough for them to keep him alive for at least a short interval.

It was not the best time for Kurama to attack, he was aware. And so he was forced to keep completely still as Gendou tore into the body, consuming it in its entirety, bones and flesh together with a noise that even the hunter-fox found distasteful. He abhorred scavengers in any case, finding them inherently incompetent, and he suffered laziness even less well. While he had never respected Gendou, his opinion was dropping even further.

Partly it was this fact that chose his moment to spring, once the demon had finished his meal and was turning to go back inside.

Kurama leaped, transforming to the youko in midair and summoning his whip, and landed in the dirt inches from Gendou's back. He snapped the whip, looping it around his enemy and pulling it taut -- a maneuver that would have cut any other youkai in half.

The ambush and the yank tore a grunt from Gendou's bloody jaw and he was pulled back instead of cut apart, forcing Kurama to jump aside and shift his pressure on the weapon, sending the demon spinning from its end when it uncurled to reel in an ungainly circle, shaking his head to clear it of dizziness. There was not even a scratch on his thick yellow hide.

Gendou recovered quickly, and stared in shock. "You!"

Kurama was not about to waste time in banter -- he cracked the whip towards Gendou's eyes, drawing a roar from him as it lashed across his face but did as little damage as before.

_As I expected. He's far too strong for me to even wound him; but what else can I do? Unless I can find his part of the artifact -- perhaps I can eliminate him before Donari appears._

He did a rapid visual scan of his enemy, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Aware he would get nowhere in this fashion, he swept his weapon up again, razing it across Gendou's head of sparse, lanky hair. Nothing came free, not even a few severed strands, and he swore. _Where else would he be keeping it? Under his loincloth? If so, it's a lost cause. He'll be protecting that area rather fiercely._

He scampered away. Gendou roared again and stumped after him.

Kurama needed the distance to prolong this part of the fight, and widen the span that Donari would need to cross before she could reasonably help her partner. He also did not want to be within easy reach of her when she exited the house -- something he had learned even before he had escaped her. It would be even less savory a prospect now, when she surely would seek to kill him on sight. Not that it would make terribly much difference, given that he didn't look to be able to harm Gendou anyway, so that prolonging this would mean nothing. But at least he would be out in the open, and could not be cornered; that was something.

And then he heard an outraged feminine scream, and stopped short so quickly that he almost lost his balance, rolling to the left. Gendou thundered past him, and he had time to stand back up and view Donari as she ran towards him, eyes glowing incandescently with fury.

_And now I'm for it. I hope I accomplish something here._

He grabbed a handful of seeds from his hair, flung them in an arc towards her, and made them grow. They were his only real hope.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was very late in the day, perhaps seven o'clock, and Yuusuke was the last one that Genkai released from aiding her -- besides Yukina, that is. Kuwabara had been left to his own devices only moments earlier, but Yuusuke was still feeling persecuted at being last, reminding him how little he cared to be here at all, much less doing _work._

As soon as he left the sickroom for the atrium where his friends waited, he flopped over onto a cushion without invitation, breath whooshing out in relief that he could finally relax. Unfortunately, he managed to land his elbow on Botan's ankle with a crack, sending both of them a foot into the air with identical yelps of pain and surprise.

"Watch what you're doing!" Botan screeched.

"Watch where you're lying!" Yuusuke yelled back.

"Shut up already!" Kuwabara interjected. He too sat down, but with a bit more decorum, although that was only because Yukina was still awake and nearby and might see him if he copied Yuusuke's rudeness. "You're gonna wake up the koorime Genkai and I just got to sleep," he continued with a frown.

Yuusuke throttled down the retort that Kuwabara had been just as loud in telling them to be quiet. "Yeah, yeah, fine. So are we really done?"

Botan was up and cross-legged, rubbing her abused ankle with both thumbs as she replied, "Yes. Genkai said they're all going to make it and she doesn't need our help anymore. I'm glad -- I'm out of healing energy for the next few hours at least."

"And what about Yukina?" asked Kuwabara.

"She's going to sleep for a while and then continue to help out; her healing regenerates faster than mine does. That girl is positively amazing." And the ferrygirl was on her back again, knees sticking up and her feet rather impolitely propped on a cushion.

Yuusuke himself had fallen over once he was done yelling at her, and spoke to the ceiling. "Then can we go and get some sleep ourselves? I'm wiped."

"Nuh-uh, you guys," Kuwabara warned. "We were in the middle of something important when we found Yukina, and we have to get back to it. Remember?"

"What was that?" Botan's voice was curious, but not curious enough, apparently, to get her to sit up again.

Yuusuke's answer came out fully as cranky as he felt. "Looking for Kurama. Oh, hell. Do we have to?"

"Urameshi!"

"Yeah, right, of course we do. Chill, Kuwabara, I wasn't asking that for real." He sighed and sat up, eyes still closed against a tension headache of unspeakable magnitude. "But how are we supposed to find him? I mean, we were guessing he would stay as far away from the big demons as he could, so we were looking for him in the western part of Makai. He's too damned good at hiding."

"I wish he hadn't run off like that," Kuwabara grumbled. "He could've at least stayed where we knew where he was."

"There're a lot of things that would be easier if he weren't such a stubborn ass." Yuusuke glanced over at Botan to see if she was going to offer input, and became aware that she was looking entirely too nonchalantly at one of the wall hangings, conspicuous in her silence. He gave her a look askance. "What?"

She made a little jump. "What? Oh, nothing, I was just --"

"You know something," he accused. "What is it?" It occurred to him to ask, "You don't have some weird orders from the stupid baby, do you?"

She sat upright with a jerk, indignant. "Stop calling him that! And no, I'm on leave and don't have any orders right now." Her anger masked what Yuusuke was certain was genuine nervousness.

Kuwabara observed the exchange with puzzlement. "Urameshi, what are you --"

"She knows something about Kurama," Yuusuke declared even more loudly than before, "and I'm gonna make her say what it is."

The ferrygirl glowered at him. "How do you know I know anything at all? I think you're just imagining things."

The Tantei laughed with very little humor. "You suck at keeping secrets, Botan. Now spit it out before I hang you up by your ponytail. I'm not in the mood to play guessing games while Kurama's in trouble."

She scowled dreadfully, not answering, until Kuwabara began to get suspicious himself and threw in beside Yuusuke. "Yeah, what are you not saying? There shouldn't be any secrets right now!"

They wore her down under their combined gaze, and she finally melted completely. "Fine. I saw him yesterday, after I took Yukina to the village, but he didn't want me to let you know where he was yet."

"So you _were_ keeping secrets! Dammit, Botan!"

"Shut up, Kuwabara." Yuusuke snorted. "He didn't want you to tell us, huh? Typical. Too bad for him -- he's in too much trouble for us to leave him alone. Where was he?"

"East of the ice village, close to the Plains of Waste. I think he has a few hiding places there."

"Crap, you mean before we were on the wrong side of the Makai altogether?"

"I told you, Urameshi!"

"Shut up, you didn't know either!" To ward off another argumentive comment, Yuusuke quickly asked Botan, "How did you find him? The Makai's huge, and we didn't know where he was going off to."

She squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, but she'd already copped to one secret, and sighed, surrendering the other. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you this, but . . ."

"But, what?" Yuusuke eyed her suspiciously.

She relented with a grimace. "You remember the demon compass you broke when we went after Rando?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, I was given a replacement about a month ago -- it takes Reikai a long time to back-order equipment -- but you weren't on any cases yet, so I kept it. I was experimenting on making it more focused, and I figured out how to set it for a specific youkai. I reset it for Kurama when he went on his mission." She gave the two of them a pleading look. "Please don't tell Koenma. He doesn't know I can do that, and he might order me to use it in a way I don't like."

Yuusuke whistled. "Really? That's awesome! We'll have a much better chance of finding him with that! I get it back after we're done, though, right?" _I hope so. If we get Kurama through this, I'm_never _tuning that thing onto anyone else. I'll keep an eye on him for the rest of my freaking life if I have to._

Kuwabara looked almost livid at this information. "You mean you could have found him anytime and you didn't try to help him yet? What the hell's the point of that thing if you aren't using it for something useful?"

"Oi!" Yuusuke yelled it sharply to get his immediate attention; it arrested the remainder of what was probably a badly-thought-out tirade. When he had Kuwabara's eyes, he said, "All right, you have a problem with what the rest of us are or aren't doing to help Kurama? Then just say so instead of having a fit every time you think we're being lazy. You went to _school_ yesterday, what does that say about the job _you've_ been doing?"

"Shut up, Urameshi!"

"Then stop getting in our faces about not doing enough. We're already pretty unfocused on this whole problem, and you don't need to make it worse."

They glared at each other. Yuusuke didn't intend to back down. He not only didn't need the distraction, he didn't need the constant reminder that he really _hadn't_ been doing much to help anyone but himself. Hell, Genkai had already yelled at him for that --

He realized something so suddenly that he lost his stare-down with the still-furious Kuwabara. _I totally forgot to talk to Kurama's mom. Kisama -- I hope _my _mom doesn't do anything dumb like she did when she heard he was dead; but she won't know he's alive, though. I didn't tell her. Unless Keiko did it -- crap, she would. Now what?_

"Fine." Kuwabara's voice jolted him back to himself. "I shouldn't be yelling at you guys. Now can we just use that stupid compass to go find him?"

Botan answered before the black-haired boy had recovered his equilibrium. "I can spot him if I'm within twenty miles. If we go to where he was when I last saw him, we should be able to find him if he hasn't gone too far." She faltered a moment before reluctantly adding, "I'm not sure what we'll do if he _has_ gone too far, but maybe we'll get lucky."

An idea happened in Yuusuke's brain in time for him to jump in. "If we come at it from the west, maybe we can catch him if he's headed this way."

Botan gave him a look and a sweatdrop. "That would work for any direction, Yuusuke."

The Tantei made a face at her. "Well it was a thought! Do you have a better idea?"

"Yeah, how about we get moving!" shouted Kuwabara over Botan's acerbic response. "He could be in trouble already while we're sitting here fighting!"

"You're one to talk!"

"Dammit, Urameshi, I said I was sorry!"

"No, you didn't! You just said 'Fine'!" Yuusuke made his voice high and mocking.

"Well I meant I was sorry, and I am, so quit being a dumbass!"

Oh. "Yeah, right, whatever. I'm not in the mood to fight," the detective muttered petulantly.

"One can never tell with you," Botan said darkly, and Yuusuke kicked her on the sore ankle to make her screech again.

He stretched out his legs, popping both knees. "I guess we should go. We gotta find him as soon as -- ow! Botan! Cut that _ow!"_ Another cushion smacked him in the forehead and he retaliated with two of his own straight to the reaper's chest. Outraged and indignant at his choice of targets, she had one lifted over her head with her free hand (the other was protecting her breasts from further assault) and would have landed it in a place perfectly suited for revenge if it hadn't been snatched from her by Kuwabara.

"You guys, _shut up!"_

In the other room, there was a thump. They all froze.

The door slid open to reveal an exhausted and irate Genkai, her eye twitching in a manner that made Yuusuke -- who knew what it meant -- want to hide in his own lap. She glared death at all three of them.

_"Get out of my house!"_

They were only too happy to comply.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Yuusuke perched on the oar behind Botan, sandwiched between his companions with the larger boy breathing rankly down his neck, and keeping a keen lookout with sight and ki to see if he could spot any sign of Kurama. Although, if Botan hadn't detected him the the compass yet, it was probably useless; with a radius of twenty miles, the equipment had a much better range than his senses. They had begun at the edge of the forest, near the ruins of the ice village, and made several sweeping passes eastward, looping around to cover as much ground as possible. Now they were just reaching the Plains of Waste, as Botan had named them -- after _four hours_ of searching.

That was four hours of Kuwabara bitching, Botan muttering under her breath, and the oar handle digging into a very delicate area of Yuusuke's anatomy. He was reaching the point where he seriously considered just giving the other boy a shove and seeing if he managed to land on his head. Given that the compass had a better range than Kuwabara, too, it wasn't like it would matter.

Fortunately for Kuwabara (although unfortunately for Yuusuke's indulgence of pissiness), they finally had a break.

"I've got a reading!" Botan's voice was excited and apprehensive at once, peering at the small wristwatch-sized screen. "He's pretty close!"

"What? I thought you said that thing works at twenty miles!" _Not that I'm complaining --_

"It does, but it did this last time, too; he must be masking his ki. He's only a mile from here at the furthest." But then she peered closer yet, and her brow furrowed. "I'm also getting some interference from that area. It looks like there are some really strong youkai there."

_"Fuck!"_

Kuwabara was startled so badly, leaned over to try and see the compass, that he nearly lost his grip on the oar and gave Yuusuke the opportunity to try his experiment after all. "Hey, Urameshi!"

"He's been found, dammit!" _I knew it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We're already too late to get him back to the Ningenkai -- now we're gonna have to rescue his ass from them without getting ourselves killed._

"How do you know he isn't hiding with some friends?" Kuwabara, as usual, played devil's advocate to Yuusuke out of pure spite. "Maybe he's fine, ever think of that?"

But Botan was shaking her head, eyes frightened. "I've only been here once, but I know this area -- I dropped him off here weeks ago for his mission. This is where Gendou and Donari live. He must have gone back for some reason." She watched the twitching needle of the compass with a fixed gaze.

_We can't fly over them, _Yuusuke suddenly thought. _We'll need to be on the ground before they see us, or they could shoot us out of the air. _"Set us down, Botan!"

"Right!"

Once on the ground, Yuusuke wasted no time, pelting as quickly as his legs would move him towards the compass reading. _This sucks, this sucks, this sucks -- I hope he's not hurt already -- _He was nearing a tall hill, and his own internal ki meter spiked; and he realized with a painful jerk of his stomach that Kurama wasn't masking his ki. It was depleted. He could feel it fluctuate --

The aroma of battle, stung through with smoke, reached Yuusuke's nostrils as he crested the hill, and he beheld the scene he had feared he would. The youko was already battered, bleeding and stumbling, wielding his rose whip in desperate, jerky movements utterly unlike his usually fluid grace, and it was clear that he would last little longer against the pair of youkai before him.

And they -- they were so _small _that Yuusuke had to blink as he ran to make certain that they were really the menace his friend faced. Oh, one was decently sized for a youkai, he supposed, but the woman was diminutive as Yukina, and nearly as pretty. Somehow, he had envisioned them both as enormous hulking monsters like Toguro.

_Stupid,_he berated himself as he dashed ever closer. _Kurama's powerful as hell, and he doesn't look like it. Since when has anyone really powerful been like that _except _for Toguro?_

Such thoughts were wiped from his mind as a slashing blow knocked the kitsune to his knees, sending blood splashing in a playful arc through the air. "Kurama!" Yuusuke shouted, putting on another burst of speed and readying his reiki for an attack. His feet flew over the hard-baked sand.

All three heads jerked up and swiveled to face him as his voice echoed across the expanse between them. He saw Kurama take advantage of the distraction to spring back out of reach, pull a seed from his hair, and shout hoarsely in response, "Yuusuke! You must leave immediately! This is not your fight!"

Kuwabara was behind him, as was Botan; he heard them gasp in exertion or dismay. He almost grinned at the rank surprise with which the trio was greeted -- the attacking youkai did nothing for one moment but stare blankly. It was the perfect time to ignore Kurama.

"Screw that!" Yuusuke hollered, and threw back his head. "Rei gun!"

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kurama had only a split second to throw up a ki shield around himself and his last remaining plant before the blue-white energy detonated over everything, showering debris and rocking the ground like an earthquake. It battered his hasty construction and left him gasping for air, the seed knocked from his hand and lost in the dirt. His power was low, and he could _not _afford this expenditure -- this fern was his last viable diversionary plant, which he could _not_replace if it were to be destroyed. He felt his anger rising, and lost his temper for one moment.

_"Damn it, _Yuusuke!" he yelled into the keening wind of the backblast. "I told you to _leave!"_

The detective didn't seem to hear him at all, no wonder what with the ringing explosion. He was still racing over the plain, skidding down the last of the small hills with one of those big, silly grins plastered on his face. To Kurama's dismay, he was not alone -- Kuwabara was there, and Botan (of all people) was right on their heels. The ferrygirl seemed to be spiraling up to a safe distance in the air, and the two boys began to automatically split up and head for one opponent each. Yuusuke was making a straight line for Donari, a light ki shield pulsating around him.

The demoness was recovering, and she was making ready a lance of energy to meet this new threat. Kurama's pulse sputtered; Yuusuke was going to _die_ and he didn't even know it. Kurama couldn't intervene in time to warn him away -- he saw it as thought it had already happened: the white-hot attack arcing towards his friend, the cocky smile slowly changing to disbelief as his shielding disintegrated, the impact that would throw him backwards to lie still on the hard ground --

He abandoned caution and flung as much power into a raw assault as he could muster, draining his reserves in an attempt to turn the attack away.

A shocked Donari was engulfed in green brilliance and Gendou was flung back out of range altogether. That was all Kurama could see -- his vision blotched to white and he felt himself hit the ground, dazed and lightheaded from expending so much energy while wounded. He heard Yuusuke call his name, and slowly struggled back upright, his sight slow to clear and his wounds bleeding freely.

Once he was on his feet, however, his conditioning took over and he regained his equilibrium. It seemed, as he surveyed his handiwork, that he had been successful; Gendou was nowhere in sight, Donari was still invisible in the center of a dust cloud, and Yuusuke was suddenly at his side, gripping his arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked, eyes on the dust.

"I will be, but I expended the last of my youki in that attack. Why didn't you leave when I told you to?"

"Nice to see you again, too."

"Because we're supposed to help out our friends, that's why!" This from Kuwabara, who had made his way over to them. He was glowering fiercely.

Kurama shook his head. "You're only putting yourselves in unnecessary danger. These two are after _me, _not you, but they will not hesitate to kill you if you get in their way."

"So what? We can take 'em!" Kuwabara shot back cockily. "It'll be --"

"Watch out!"

Kurama gave each of his companions a shove to either side and then leaped straight up into the air, narrowly avoiding a blast of jagged power._Gendou must have swung around behind us! _And in front of them, as he came down, he saw that the dust had settled, and a smudged Donari was advancing in outrage at the intrusion, both clawed hands crackling with violet ki.

"Get behind me!" he commanded, and made a dash for his plant. Putting it between himself and Donari, and keeping half an eye on the place where he could now make out Gendou (whose yellow hide had blended too well with the landscape), he grabbed a stone and pitched it hard at the base.

The dark, velvet-leafed fern released a shower of spores into the air to cover Kurama with glitter. He choked down the inevitable sneeze and cleared his eyes, glad he was not susceptible to the effects; he had used this plant far too many times before. A quick whirlwind of petals would be enough to carry the spores to his immediate enemy. After accomplishing that, he swung around and sent some at Gendou, thought he doubted it would be very potent after spanning the distance between them.

His teammates were not behind him, but slightly to either side, just barely out of range of the plant's insidious dust. As he kicked off into a sprint once more, he yelled, "Don't block, dodge! They've got something augmenting their power -- they're stronger than you are!" He directed that last at Kuwabara mainly, and was less than happy that the boy didn't look wholly convinced. "You have seen part of it before," he continued. "The artifact we stole from the koorime -- do you recall how it appeared broken in half?"

Though the statement's target continued to frown in puzzlement, even as they ran Kurama saw Yuusuke's eyes widen in comprehension. "That's what that thing was? The same thing that made these guys powerful?" They broke away then, and came back about, watching for another onslaught.

Aware that Yuusuke was watching him as well, Kurama nodded a confirmation.

Yuusuke didn't waste time asking him how he knew; he looked up, saw that both demons were advancing once more, and fired off a reiki bolt at Donari. On the other side, Kuwabara readied his rei ken and took slow steps toward Gendou.

_And they stick to their designated opponents, yet, _was the errant, silly thought that crossed Kurama's mind. _I had better help Kuwabara; he will need it since he has to get in close. _Accordingly, he sidled closer to his teammate and brought out the rose whip again. "Stay on his left side," he instructed quietly. "He will be slower to hit you there. Also, remember: block physical attacks if you must, but stay out of the way of energy blasts. They will be weak at first -- but he will quickly realize you are no ordinary human, and they will become much stronger."

"I got it," Kuwabara said with eyes narrowed to slits. "Does he have any weak spots?"

"Not of which I'm aware, but I'll be keeping my eyes open. You should do the same -- watch for any sign of the ki amplifier he carries. It has to be in contact with his skin somewhere; separate him from it if you can."

"Right. Here I come, you big monster guy! Get ready to feel my sword!"

_And here they are, just as I had hoped to avoid. Inari, why do you do these things to me?_

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

While Kuwabara charged, Yuusuke hung back a bit, eyeing his adversary. She had stopped moving and was staring at him, almost thoughtfully, ignoring the shots he fired at her and showing no concern for her partner whatsoever. She almost looked like she was puzzling something out, and not liking the conclusion. _How come a low-level demon is so smart? I thought the weak ones were usually dumb, too. And what the hell is she thinking about? Not me, that's for sure. Gotta fix that._

He considered. He was clearly an afterthought at this point; she was after Kurama as he had said, and the kitsune was already pretty banged up. What he was even doing out here, getting beaten to a pulp by two demons he could easily have hidden from, was confusing Yuusuke as well as pissing him off. Royally. He was going to chew Kurama out when they were done here, and watch his back in the meantime.

_Right. Time for something stupid and impressive. _And he took his stance, centered himself, and geared up for a little-used technique, just at the moment that the demoness began approaching once more.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was an odd end for such an exhausting day. The last of several unique cases had just left Koenma's office with Ayame following her, two silent shadows in their soft kimono. His endless paperwork was nearly completed already, and his hands were reluctant to stop moving in the pattern of stamping and signing. He had switched between his toddler and teenaged forms more times than he cared to count, keeping his dignity and authority for meetings with the koorime souls while saving as much energy as possible once they left. There had been almost a full thousand women in the village; so, though most were easy enough to sort, there had been about fifty special cases or so, largely those who had turned traitor at the first sign of danger and even a few who had committed murder thinking they could save themselves.

_So much for the peaceful female nature. _Koenma rubbed at the mounting pressure behind his forehead and reflected on the bloody nature disasters seemed to spark even in supposedly peaceful people. He had seen it before, several times in both worlds, and it never ceased to make him shudder at its ability to revert rational beings. Even this mostly unanticipated visitation, though it put a surreal twist into the horrendous monotony of processing death, only reminded him of the same subject -- he was confronted by one of those special demons who both caused and averted messes such as this.

And very few demons were also ice masters. Hence, the oddity. It was almost like deja vu.

He eyed Touya through he gaps between his fingers. He had had no time at all to review the Shinobi files he had demanded from George; instead, an arbitrary decision to summon Jin had been his last order before the flood of souls hit his poorly-prepared staff like a tsunami. Now, as it tapered off, it was the ice master who had answered the order. He was curious as to why, but too tired to ask.

"Thank you for coming," he said wearily. "I realize you didn't have much notice, and as busy as you Shinobi can be, I didn't expect you to be available for weeks."

There was a short interim of silence. "Jin was furious. He told me to tell you never to summon him like that again."

"I wondered why you came instead. I'll remember that; extend my apologies when you get the chance. Did your escort tell you anything about why you're here? I know George didn't." Touya was sizing him up. He could tell from the youkai's choice of introductory topics. He had forgotten that none of the Shinobi had seen him up close before, and thanked his kami ancestors that he had not switched back to baby form. Business tended to go much better when he wasn't being laughed at.

A shake of his head was Touya's answer. Koenma had thought as much. "Good," he continued. "I'd rather tell all of it myself so you won't get any confusing babble intermixed. I have a favor to ask."

An unnerving facet of Shinobi training kept Touya entirely immobile, except for the eyebrow that lifted just a fraction. "A favor."

"A very big and dangerous one. I need you to use an object for me -- a weapon. This." He pulled the half-Orb from under his desk and held it out, then took a deep breath and launched into the abbreviated version he had practiced. "Before you ask, you would have to fight some strong youkai who have the other half of this same weapon, you'd be doing it in order to get the weapon back from them, and no, I can't do it myself, and neither can my team. We're very short on time, because these demons are already killing in large numbers -- you saw the mass of souls that just went through here. If they aren't stopped, they'll conquer Makai, Ningenkai, and eventually even Reikai, which would not be to anyone's advantage. They might even be able to get Meikai back open if they're clever about it." He paused, considering. "Yeah, that about sums it up. Will you do it?"

It took surprisingly little time for absorption to occur. "Possibly. Why can't you use it?"

"I made it. It takes power from me in a peculiar way, and I'd probably make it explode if I tried."

"And why not your team?"

"It's not designed for humans. They die," he replied shortly.

"Not all of them are human."

"Kurama counts."

"And the fire demon?"

"He's dead."

This time both eyebrows jumped. "They really must be strong demons."

Koenma deliberately chose not to correct the obvious assumption, since it would probably work for him in this case; and he did _not_ want to go too deeply into that matter. It had already caused too much damage. He knew Yuusuke would tell Touya everything once the two met for the mission, but he wanted Touya committed before he got the idea that his prospective employer was a traitor.

Even if he was.

He had come to the hard conclusion that Yuusuke was right. Lies were betrayals, and he had not seen it. Lying was a necessary, even vital part of his job; that he had never been good at it was a statement about his other competencies as a ruler. He had assessed the situation and determined that lying was the best way to accomplish his goals -- but he had assessed it wrongly, and broken the one rule he should have counted as most important: never to lie to those who followed him.

"You realize I owe you no favors," Touya was saying, gazing steadily over folded arms at the beleaguered prince of Reikai. "Should I choose to do this, you will, therefore, owe me one instead. What do you offer?"

The prince in question adopted a distinctly pained look. "I don't know what you want. And I'm afraid to ask."

Touya raised an eyebrow. "Don't you?"

"I have a short memory span." He rubbed at his temples. "Fine, I do. But you are aware that it's not mine to give. I'm not in the habit of annexing property, unused or not."

"I will accept any land. It need not be the island."

"Unless you want some land in the Reikai, and keep in mind you probably won't like what's available, I can't do that." He made a grand, sweeping gesture that vaguely encompassed his entire surroundings. "I own this office, and I pretend to own every soul that passes through it, but I'm just a desk job. My father is the one who's really in charge here, and he doesn't come home very often. I can promise you to ask him, but I wouldn't hold your breath -- it might be a decade or two before I can get back to you."

The ice master was frowning. "Then we have no bargain." He looked unpleasantly like he was about to turn and leave.

Koenma sighed heavily. "Isn't there _anything_ else you people want? I'm assuming you're after land for your entire Shinobi sect. Is that correct, Touya?"

"Yes, it is, and no, there isn't. All of our other desires are things we can easily obtain ourselves."

It was Koenma's turn to raise a skeptical brow. It wasn't like Touya to tell such an obvious falsehood, but he considered it unlikely at best that the Shinobi were in need of nothing they could not acquire. "I don't buy that," he said frankly. "You must want something. Everyone does these days. I can't give you land, but I can do a lot of other favors for you that I bet no one else can. So what'll it be?"

The youkai was unmoved. "I thought you were only a desk job."

"Even bureaucrats have influence. You know, I don't particularly understand why you require a reward in any case, unless I haven't made the situation sufficiently clear. You can hardly find land anywhere if the demons I told you about have conquered it all." He let a pause settle in. "No self-preservation in the Shinobi code?"

"Don't be insulting." But the ninja was smiling faintly at his last sally. "But you do make a good point. What sort of favors do you do?"

The kami steepled his hands and took a moment to think. His father would kill him for this, but -- "I know it's not as good as land, but I can grant your sect free access to the mortal world, just as my team has free access to yours. You would have to guarantee that they'll behave themselves, though, and it comes with the standard revocation clause if they don't. I can't have anarchy in the ningen streets." _Let that be good enough so I can be done with this whole mess._

As it happened, it was not. Touya considered, shrugged, and said, "And?"

"Now I know you've met Kurama. He's already taught you the fine art of being difficult. What about that offer wasn't good enough?"

"We are demons," was the patient reply. "Not all of us can pass for human. And what would we do in the human world? It's not ours. We would, at best, enjoy the novelty of it."

And Koenma hit upon the perfect bargaining chip, startling his features into a smile with its abruptness. "You have money, don't you? And you can get gold for it?"

"Of course we do. Shinobi are all well-paid for our services. What's your point?"

"It's simple. While I can't _give_ you land, in the human world, it's available to anyone with enough money. You can buy all the land you want if you're inconspicuous about it."

The youkai's eyes widened. "You mean humans will give up their land for money alone? Are they so frivolous? How do they survive?"

"Most humans aren't rooted like demons are, and land isn't the same symbol of power that it used to be. They live where it suits them, for as long as it suits them. An attachment to a particular bit of land is considered quaint and antiquated at best and eccentric at worst, in all countries except a few. If you offer enough, you shouldn't have a problem finding a place like the island, or somewhere inland, if you prefer."

There was another significant pause as Touya worked out the implications of this new information, and Koenma grew more hopeful with each second._This should work -- thank Daddy I'll be getting this over with. I'm that much closer to recovering the Orb and destroying it for good. And no one will have to know anything more._

Touya came out of his momentary reverie, looked Koenma in the eyes, and said, "This is a bargain of which my sect would approve. However, there is one further condition: you will furnish half the gold for our land."

The princeling squeaked indignantly. _"Half?"_

"Half."

It took a moment for Koenma to clear his lips of spluttering. After he recovered, he glared. "I thought you were 'well-paid' for your services! Gotten greedy all of a sudden?"

And Touya smiled confidently at him, with just a hint of a smirk. "Do you want me to save the worlds or not?"

With some final grumbling, Koenma acquiesed. "Have it your way."

The message went out with Ayame for Botan to return to Reikai. There was a lot to iron out.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Watching Kuwabara run forward, Kurama had the presence of mind to wonder what help he could offer at all, though he was bound to try. He had only just enough ki left to form the rose whip, and the effort coupled with his injuries was affecting even his sense of balance. He would, at best, be able to serve as a distraction or a decoy, which would probably result in his death or incapacitation in a very short amount of time.

He_did_ have that plant, but the spores hadn't had any visible effect on the two demons, and so it was next to useless. He supposed he could try to blind them in a cloud of the dust, but little more._It's a good thing the Tantei arrived when they did, _he thought, unbidden, _or I might already be dead._

_Shut up, _he told his traitorous mind in response. _Now they will only be killed along with me. I have yet to discover any besides minor weaknesses in my enemies, and I am a liability now, hurt as I am, that will distract them._

_Then again, Hiei has gone and is probably captured -- now, should a weakness be found, the others will have knowledge of it._

_Which will not help them if they are dead from lack of attentiveness due to concern for me. I must not let them know how badly off I really am -- or I must do whatever I can immediately, and remove myself from their consideration._

_I really don't know if I want to die._

_Too bad. You knew this would happen, and you went along with this plan anyway._

_Inari knows why._

_I thought I told you to shut up._

Kuwabara's sword slammed to a halt upon contact with Gendou's hide, throwing out a fair shower of sparks. It also made an odd screeching sound, reminiscent of nails on a blackboard, that penetrated Kurama's ears like a hot knife. He hissed, and laid them down flat, both to convey his extreme displeasure and to partially block out the noise. "Gah, what _is_ that?" he heard faintly from above. He had forgotten Botan was even there; what was she doing, other than flying around and probably dodging shots?

_Finding me, _his mind supplied promptly. Well, that made sense of a sort. The others had located him rather quickly to have had no outside help. In her place, however, he would have stayed out of sight altogether -- unless she was acting as a backup escape route, which also made sense --

_"Reikodan!"_

Even over the continual _scree_ of Kuwabara's swordlock with Gendou, Kurama clearly made out Yuusuke's ringing shout, and was able to look over just as the spirit detective's punch connected solidly with Donari's lovely face, driving her back several paces and flashing a brilliant white that threw spots into his vision. There was a delayed explosion, veiling them both in dust.

"All right!" he heard Kuwabara crow from in front of him. "Go Urameshi!"

_Oops. I ought to be doing something by now. _Blinking the dazzle from his eyes and recalling his own responsibility, Kurama made a sudden dash for Gendou, veering to the left and circling behind. He lashed out his whip, almost certain it would actually connect with its target. It did, but instead of slicing open the youkai's back, it had as little effect as Kuwabara's rei ken, and he held contact for no more than a moment before dropping down on all fours and scampering ungracefully out of attack range.

His mind caught up. _If Yuusuke is trying to draw her attention and her fire, the reikodan may well do; if he's trying to defeat her, I have not adequately expressed the extent of her power. I only hope it is the former. And I; I do not know if my distraction was effective, but I would venture to say it was not. I must take more drastic measures than I had hoped to focus Gendou upon me._

Well, there was more than one way to go about doing that. He quickly discarded them one by one. _Too risky; too obvious; too stupid; well, that last one might actually work. Here goes._

"Well, Master Gendou, how will you punish your youko slave?"

A moment only, and the awful sound ceased as Gendou threw his formidable weight at the rei ken, sending his opponent sprawling. He paid the human no further notice, and turned his back so he could face the source of the taunt. He snarled. "Curious, traitor?"

"Amused," the youko replied with a hint of disdain. "I admit I've been holding back, but do you truly think you can defeat me? Do you not know who I am?"

"Who you are?" Gendou sneered. Kurama caught a peek of Kuwabara righting himself over the monster's shoulder. "A pathetic excuse for a spy? I killed the last of your kind easily enough."

"Hah. You really don't know." He put on a predatory smile, and stood straight as a rod, as if his wounds did not pain him at all. "I am _the_ silver youko. I am the legendary bandit, who escaped death to return twice as strong. I am Youko Kurama."

He struck a slightly over-the-top pose just to make sure he was getting through to his dull-witted enemy. Kuwabara had a sweatdrop.

_That should do it._

The yellow demon did not seem to find it absurd, however -- and neither, apparently, did Yuusuke, whose ki flared with unmistakable alarm. Kurama risked a glance over; the Tantei had squared off with Donari, who was yet dirtier but seemed otherwise unharmed by the full impact of an extremely destructive technique as delivered by the strongest Reikai detective in centuries. And she was also watching Kurama.

An entire internal monologue of curses passed through Kurama's mind._Kisama . . . I went too far -- I overestimated the effect that the reikodan would have on her attention. Now I'll have them both on me in the next instant. I'd better get back to my plant; it may be my only recourse to avoid them both at once._

He leaped, and was next to it -- directly between the two demons. Fortunately (or not, as it were) that movement was in keeping with his melodramatic posture and attitude of challenge.

"The silver bandit?" The tone of Donari's voice was rich and amused. "I knew you were a special sort of slave. I'm honored that you submitted your -- services -- to me so willingly."

"Kurama, what are you _doing? _I'm in the middle of kicking her ass, so stop distracting her!"

_This will not go well. _His thought process spiraled out of his control. They had both focused on him, and there was almost nowhere he could dodge; though near his plant, this position was otherwise untenable. If both of them fired salvos at once, he would be caught by at least one for certain, and he didn't have the energy to recover from that. This was one of his more reckless bluffs, especially with no backup ready. Even if they could reach him themselves, Yuusuke and Kuwabara had already proven to be less than effective in his fight.

But he had a plan.

_I've got their attention -- so now I must draw them in close, and widen my avenues for escape._

"Do shut up, human," he told Yuusuke with a warning in his voice that he hoped both sides would interpret as he intended. "I need no help from you, as I told you. I would challenge Master Gendou, here, and see if he would meet me at close range -- unless you are a coward, as I suspect?" he directed at his target. His smile was feral even as his heart sped in his chest.

In response, the youkai bellowed and charged, churning the sand in his wake with great stomping strides.

Before Gendou closed the gap entirely, the kitsune dared to drop his defense for an instant and give the plant a swift kick to set loose more dust. It had matured more fully; this time it was an enormous, obscuring mist, and Kurama could not again avoid sneezing. It blanketed his enemy, producing smothered choking sounds, and he seized his chance to slip away out of reach, and reposition himself behind Gendou. He took a moment to hastily calculate Yuusuke's position, and aimed a gust of petals and spore at Donari, hoping he wouldn't tag his friend by accident.

A string of violent sneezes made him silently curse once more. Though the dust settled quickly, Yuusuke continued to sneeze for almost another full minute, coughing, gasping and eking out half-formed expletives between nasal expulsions. Donari, on the other hand, seemed quite unaffected.

She raised a disdainful eyebrow, sneered at Gendou and proclaimed, "I tire of you, youko. I will kill your ningen cohorts, and then deal with you -- you may be certain you will not enjoy your fate." And she thrust a hand, fingers splayed, towards a spot several yards behind Gendou.

Botan gasped high above them. "Kuwabara!"

Kurama was already leaping before he had time to think about it -- but he wouldn't reach the boy nearly in time. He knew Kuwabara was going to die instantly, destroyed by a blast of energy an S-class youkai would have a hard time withstanding. The demoness could have killed him just as easily, he also knew; and his mind made a connection without being asked, as he realized _She never meant to kill me --_

And he landed hard, automatically rolling to a crouch and hunkering down defensively. He whipped his head around.

His human friend was still standing there, looking terrified; Yuusuke and Gendou were still sneezing; and Donari was still motionless with one claw outstretched, appearing utterly baffled.

The decision based on an instant's assessment, and Kurama had hold of Yuusuke's wrist and was yanking him along in a mad dash away from the battlefield, shouting, "Kuwabara, Botan, follow me! We can hide!"

Botan protested, "But I'm not --"

"You're not safe in the air! There's more cover on the ground!" He hadn't even looked back to see where she had answered him from -- his eyes were fixed on the small hills and the shelter-like depressions he knew to be behind each of them, and his back itched interminably, anticipating a strike. _She won't be stalled for long -- but what stopped her? It was nothing any of us did. Even if she doesn't mean to kill me, I wouldn't have gotten there in time to be hit --_

"No way!"

The fox skidded to a stop, dumping Yuusuke on his rear as he slid into an about-face. Kuwabara had his sword out again, and it was raised in challenge. "I'm not gonna run away!" he was declaring. "I haven't even gotten started yet!"

"Kuwabara, no! You'll have a much better chance if we retreat for now! This isn't very wise!"

But his words were futile. The brash boy was already running at the recovering Gendou, swinging his sword around for a sweeping cut. The kitsune flinched, anticipating a screech like the one before --

And screech it did, but at a lower pitch, like a buzz saw, and accompanied by an impressive roar of pain. The rei ken had left a shallow slice, leaking ichor-like blood, all the way across the demon's chest from shoulder to opposite hip.

"Oh, yeah!" grinned Kuwabara triumphantly. "Not so tough after all!"

_What in Inari's name . . ._

But before the thought could even be completed, three things happened.

Yuusuke got up, swearing and swiping at his eyes but no longer sneezing; Donari growled and raised her hand to attack again; and Gendou looked down at the slash in his torso, glanced back up at Donari -- and fled with all speed, leaving a dust trail as high as he was tall, into the west.

Everyone stood in mute, openmouthed shock, for the same moment. The same long, long moment.

The return of his senses snapped Kurama into action. "Come on, you three! We don't have time to waste! Yuusuke, can you see well enough?"

"Oh, yeah, I think so," the detective replied, still watching after the rapidly escaping demon. "The colors are a little funny, and my ears are ringing some. What'd I miss?"

There was an explosion near them. They yelped and took off, with the other two at their backs, running headlong for the hills and sliding around in the sand in their haste. Much belatedly, it seemed, Donari had recovered from her own startlement, and had fired a rather badly-aimed strike at her stationary opponents. But that was so_sloppy,_ to miss an easy shot like that -- and why had she failed to kill Kuwabara? And what had made the rei ken so abruptly effective?

A number of things suddenly weren't adding up; unless, of course --

_The plant?_

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The room was on fire.

It burned red and orange and blue, with devastating heat and no smoke at all, and served to backlight a small figure who stood in the inferno's center. There was a trembling collection of frightened creatures huddled as far from that figure as the walls permitted, watching it through the lattice of bars; it stood ready to spring regardless of its confinement, all its features shadowed except for three blazing eyes, and it snarled at them with all the ferocity of a wild thing.

_"I can and will kill every one of you!" _it roared. _"I will burn your flesh until it shrivels and blackens on your bones! I will tear you apart and leave you to fall to ashes!"_

The creatures whimpered and cowered, pushing to be at the back of the group. None of them dared look directly at it.

_"I want _him _to come down here! Do it _now!"

And the flames surged to fill the corridor, and only those lucky enough to see them coming were spared.

* * *

_Well, isn't this an annoying place to end the chapter? I kind of had to, though; I was only just past halfway done with my planned Chapter 10 when I did a word count and came up with over 12,000. o.o So I elected to split it up into two chapters to avoid pissing everyone off with obscenely long chapters that would be impossible to pace correctly. Not that it worked -- this chapter is still almost 14,000 words -- but I tried. It would have been worse the other way._

_As a side note, the last three chapters have been written almost completely without the use of a thesaurus, due to my computer being very much gone. However, I have a laptop now, so not only is my fic portable, but I can download a thesaurus from the internet and will be verbose again. I also managed to find a very old book that my mother gave me, A Dictionary of Synonyms and Antonyms, which is copyrighted 1961 but is still better than no thesaurus at all. It's been minimally helpful (darn thing doesn't know half the words I use, dammit). I also do not have anything better than Wordpad right now, so I don't have a spellcheck; as such, it's doubly important that you, my cherished readers, inform me when I have glaring typos as I always seem to, no matter how careful I am. Those who point them out will be luffed._

_Please don't freak out because of Kurama's battle yet -- there's more to come, and over half the next chapter is already written, although not yet polished and subject to change as usual. I'll do my very chibi best to have it finished with minimal wait. Can't speak for Chapter 12, but I've got some done on that already, too. Be patient -- which will put you one up on me._

_Love you all!_


	11. At Long Last

Part 11:  
At Long Last

_This chapter has a lot of short sections, supposed to represent cuts of the action, building towards the end scene. If it seems choppy, that would be why. However, I'm hoping the intended effect carried through well enough. Since I actually managed to make my beta read this one (at gunpoint), I'll trust her judgment and consider it fit for posting. Please, enjoy, and I beg of you to let me know what you think in a brief review. Love you all!_

* * *

"Botan!"

The breathless shout of her name almost brought the blue-haired girl to an unintended halt; she flung a startled glance at Kuwabara. "What is it? They're leaving us behind!"

He ignored her. His face, under the flush of exertion, was pale and not at all triumphant as it should have been after his successful attack on Gendou -- as it _had_ been, only a moment before. "Botan, something's wrong!"

"Of _course_ it is! We're running for our lives!" she said with a touch of incredulity.

But Kuwabara wasn't that dense, and his expression told her so. "I got a bad feeling -- something's gonna happen! Something really awful!"

"Like what?" They were nearing the hills, with Yuusuke and Kurama several yards ahead of them, and she fought not to stumble on the ankle-high rocks over which they were now sprinting.

"I don't know! Just tell Kurama for me, okay? I'm gonna warn Urameshi once we catch up!"

She nodded at once. "I understand! Let's both go to the right once we clear the hill!"

Their feet hit the curve at the same instant, and they kicked off into empty air.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Sir!"

George was in the room. Koenma cracked open dry and tired eyes and reluctantly lifted his head from his desktop where it had been pillowed on one arm, and he on the way to a much-needed nap. _Between the koorime debacle and Touya, I really don't need this so much,_ he griped internally. Aloud, and with a resounding sigh, he said, "What, George?"

The ogre was anxious -- no shock there -- and patently forthcoming about his news. "It's about Hiei, sir!"

"No, it isn't."

That brought George up short. "But, sir, it really is!"

Koenma made a dismissive hand gesture and let his head flop back down so that he was speaking into the desk. "It is not. I don't have the energy to deal with him. Now stop bothering me." He paused, then sighed again. "And if you were about to tell me that he got out, I'll fire you on the spot. I'm not in the mood for it."

"No, sir, but -- his cell is on fire!"

Koenma blinked. He sat up and swiveled his head to stare at the clerk. "That's not possible. He's not alive. He doesn't have any power."

The oni plowed on with not a pause for breath. "He said he'll kill us all if you don't come talk to him, and he's already burnt a lot of the guards, and we can't get close enough to talk to him, and --"

Koenma had not been aware that he'd picked up so much of Yuusuke's vocabulary, but the curses he spewed as he ran full-tilt for the cell bloc were some of his lead detective's favorites.

George had been right. Hiei's cell was indeed on fire. And not just a little on fire -- _very_ on fire.

Koenma stood back a fair distance, where the heat was not as withering, debating whether or not to announce himself to the source of the flames, who was in an animal-like crouch in the near left corner. He had a feeling Hiei could see him just fine anyway from this angle, but if he declared his presence, he was going to have to do something -- a prospect he did not in the least relish. He had no idea if there was a single thing he _could_ do. A deceased soul, retaining its power over an element (or anything else for that matter)? This was _not_ supposed to be possible. This was not even probable. This was already giving him a headache.

Hiei's Jagan eye was clearly active (the brightly glowing orb was hard to miss), and probably what enabled him to use his power. How in the blazes had _that_ happened? Implants like that were supposed to die with the rest of the body, as they weren't self-sustaining. Furthermore, Hiei's body wasn't even _here._ It was still in stasis. Unless the Jagan's consciousness had somehow merged with his soul in the first place -- another thing that was simply not possible -- even if it _had_ been self-sustaining, he shouldn't have had access to it.

This was breaking all the bloody _rules._

Not that it hadn't done so before. He'd completely ignored the Jagan's glow last time Hiei had been in lockup, and he felt very inept for having written it off as a harmless anomaly. Granted, he'd been busy with other concerns, but that was hardly an excuse.

Finally, with much reluctance, he drew closer to the cell. It was best, he decided, to establish his authority right away, before the captured youkai got even more out of hand. "Hiei. Did you burn my oni?"

The flames winked out abruptly. Hiei slowly stood up, faced him, and snarled as though he knew no other expression. "Let me out." His voice was low, flat, and thoroughly menacing.

_I will not be intimidated,_ the prince thought with at least a trace of conviction. "I seem to recall making that mistake once before," he responded. "I don't take jailbreaks lightly. Why should I consider letting you out?"

"Let. Me. Out." Hiei was growling in his throat. To Koenma's knowledge, he had never seen the hi youkai quite this angry before; there were little curls of smoke coming off of his skin, and his eyes had what could only be termed a malevolent glow to them.

"Give me one good reason." _Okay, so I'm a little intimidated. So what?_

"I am not going to play games with cowards," the half-koorime bit out through his teeth. "Let me out or I will kill you where you stand."

"Well. Ask a stupid question." He eyed the prisoner, attempting to appear unperturbed. "And where will you go? You ought to know you can't affect anything." _Except fire. Best not focus on that._ "I was bringing you back to life so you'd be able to help -- still up for that?"

He was aware in a moment that he shouldn't have baited Hiei; the wisps of smoke became tracings of blue flame that following the lines of Hiei's arms, and (unnervingly) his face as well. It looked hellish, and not much like a face anymore. "I want to be let _out!"_ it seethed, ruby eyes glinting with sapphire depth below the brilliant purple of the Jagan.

Koenma had to back away from that, posture of authority or none. He thought quickly. Hiei was dangerous, true, but he would probably be less so once he got what he wanted. If Koenma could wring a promise out of him to stop fleeing custody, he might be able to spare his oni (and himself) any further trauma. The poor creatures already singed were still being healed -- Koenma was in no hurry to join them. Ki flame was notorious for being corrosive, and its burns difficult to repair.

Before he acquiesced, however, he was curious. "What is it you're so anxious to do once I let you go?"

The flame dimmed but little. "My sister was in danger," Hiei snarled, "and Kurama is in danger!"

"And how do you know that?" _Familiar, this. If I'd been paying better attention before . . ._

"I am going to kill you," said Hiei. "I am going to do it slowly, and with pleasure."

Koenma held up his hands, controlling his automatic panic. He wasn't _that_ curious. "Fine. I knew it was useless. I'll let you out." It went against the grain to release Hiei so soon after he'd been captured, especially since it had been so much trouble, but when the alternative was mayhem in his palace, he'd take the loss. _Though this is still a bad, bad idea._ "But first, I need your word that you'll return once you've finished whatever you need to do."

Surprisingly, this did not get him the instantaneous hostile reaction he had braced for. Neither did it make the flames go away, however; and Hiei just stared at him. It was decidedly discomfiting to be stared at by all three of Hiei's eyes, especially delineated by flickering blue. The prince let it continue for only a moment.

He shrugged his shoulders in a last futile attempt at nonchalance, and turned halfway as if to go. "Or not. I'll just come back later." His legs wanted to stall out, reminding him that this was likely to get him fried like a wonton, and he spent a moment unlocking his knees before beginning a deliberately slow trek back the way he had come. This was _not_ a strategy he enjoyed, but when dealing with people like Hiei, it was the best he knew to try. It would either force him to be reasonable for at least a moment, or it would drive him to lash out in violence again -- and he had a fifty-fifty chance at the bare minimum.

_I'd love to try explaining this one to Daddy from my hospital bed, assuming I survive. "Well, you see, it was like this . . . and that's why I deserve to be fired."_

"My word?"

Keeping his sigh of relief just short of audibility, Koenma glanced back over his shoulder, halting. "Yes. Your word. I want you back here once everything's over, and I don't want to have to hunt you down again -- although I will if I have to. I've already proven I can." He noted with further relief that the fire trails had vanished, and Hiei's face was normal again, though his expression left something to be desired in the way of friendliness.

Despite its hostility, Hiei unexpectedly _laughed._ It was the sort of laugh designed to send cold tremors up the length of the listener's spinal column, and it did not disappoint.

"My word." His speech oozed contempt. "So you, like those pathetic ningen you call Tantei, will trust me on the strength of that alone. Very well, you have my word, traitor."

"That hardly inspires confidence," Koenma said dryly. "George?"

The oni materialized to his left. "Sir?"

"Let him go, and have Fubuki take him wherever he wants. Tell the others to stay out of his way."

"But _sir --"_

"Do it." _And wait until I'm out of the room._ He began walking again. It seemed an awfully long distance to span in order to reach the doorway; the clank of keys behind him made him itch to speed up, but he had to maintain his posture of disinterest for as long as possible, or risk seeming weak in front of a youkai for whom that would be an insult. _This is stupid. He's right -- I shouldn't trust his word. He'll only kill me if I give him too much slack, and then who'll clean up my mess? Daddy, that's who, and he won't give me a lenient afterlife, either. I'll be lucky if he doesn't stick me in limbo for a few centuries just to teach me a lesson, and probably someplace even less pleasant after that, if he bothers to transfer me at all --_

Feared but no more than half-expected, an iron grip on his collar sent him off-balance, and he gave a choked exclamation as he landed on his knees. George's shocked yell echoed off the walls. And Hiei's face was next to his right ear, full of barely-controlled murderous intent, as was the voice that he was certain only he could hear.

"If any harm had come to Yukina, no force in any world would have kept you alive. Be thankful for your good luck."

It was easier to remain still than to look over. "I am, Hiei," he mumbled, staring at the floor between his hands. "I am."

Hiei was gone so suddenly that there was not even a breeze, and Koenma picked himself up, made sure his face was composed, and left the cell bloc without another word.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kurama and Yuusuke made a flying leap over the third hill, scrambled two hills to the side, and clamped down on their energy signatures, as perfectly in tandem as if they had rehearsed it. Kurama felt Botan and Kuwabara copy them nearby a moment later. This wasn't going to work, this hiding, but he was too distracted to be more than passingly concerned. _It has to be the plant._

His mind sped through the implications. The spores: they were a simple, organic hallucinogenic compound that altered the visual and audible senses. Even in his human form, Kurama could shrug off the effects in no more than an instant, which was why the plant was only a diversion, meant to momentarily distract at best.

He could be wrong, which was more plausible than his being correct; perhaps it was just that Donari had been caught off-guard; but he was certain that her reaction time was better than that. She was nothing if not swift, nearly as swift as Hiei had been when Kurama had first met him, and Gendou, while slower overall, was boosted by his sliver of the Orb and should have been able to dodge (or at least block) Kuwabara's swing . . . and it hadn't even caused much damage . . . why had he run?

Yuusuke was regarding him with his blackest scowl. "What the hell did you think you were doing, getting into a fight alone like this anyway? I know you hide better than that!"

"There's no time for that. Listen to me quickly: that plant is a fern that releases hallucinogenic spores into the air. I'm not certain, but I believe it may have slowed Donari down considerably for a moment -- she had the chance to kill Kuwabara easily, but didn't seem to be able to fire. If we can stay out of the way of these spores ourselves, we may well have an actual advantage against her, especially now that Gendou is gone."

"What, really? I didn't know you had a plant that could mess with people's power."

Kurama gave a short, vulpine bark of frustration. "That's not what it's supposed to do, but that's also not the point. _Listen,_ Yuusuke. We can strip her of her strength if we maneuver correctly; you must follow my lead and attack when I give you an opening. If that fails, create one of your own."

He reached the end of his sentence just as an explosion broke over their momentary hiding place, and they started from it like a pair of rabbits in time to see Kuwabara and Botan similarly flushed from their own. Peeling off to one side in a zig-zag dodge, Yuusuke yelled, "Got it! I'll tell Kuwabara!" And then he added, "And after we're done here, you'll answer my goddamn question!"

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Fury was hard to let go of. Hiei had never been one to relinquish any emotion easily, but after building for nearly eleven hours, its proportion made it an unholy example even by his quick-tempered standards.

He listened to the pulse of urgency intently as it permeated his spirit. It was possible this time to discern a direction from it, hence the heading he had given this ferrygirl on whose oar he rode. He mostly ignored her. She was clearly inexperienced, needing her entire attention to keep their flight steady, and though physically older than Botan was not yet an adult. The rage only focused his directional sense, which seemed at least in part to be mollifying, and it was almost enough to assuage his anger at having discovered his enduring power over fire -- too late to have been of any use to Yukina.

Now, however, it was for once possible for him to help in a direct way. As he had fumed and smoldered in his cell, building towards his discovery of the fire, the danger he had felt towards Yukina had faded to almost nothing, reassuring him that she was safe. And the danger to Kurama had grown. It was nearing a peak, more vivid than any of his dreams; there was a sharp, metallic depth to the feeling that was utterly unlike his previous premonition of ill-fortune. The compulsion to rush to Kurama's aid was the same, however, as much as he loathed it.

He was quite certain he did not enjoy these internal warnings. While he found them useful insofar as they let him know what was going on, he felt entirely too much as though he were turning into the oaf, and anything so persistent that it could drive him against his better judgment was something to be avoided. For this _was_ against his better judgment -- he had reached the conclusion even through his anger that most of what he had been doing since he had died had been thoroughly irrational. Fleeing Reikai custody had been a stupid maneuver, and what had he accomplished since then?

Well, he had knocked some sense back into Kurama. But that hadn't been hard, and it obviously hadn't helped much. The kitsune would not be in such dire straits if they had had a better chance to plan. The sensation was cresting, making him agitated and shifty on the speeding oar; and the fury had not yet dimmed. But he was certain they were near --

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

As he ran, ducking and weaving and keeping an eye on his friends, Yuusuke fumed. This sucked. He still couldn't see right, and Kurama was still being evasive, and Kuwabara was being an idiot, and he was supposed to plan his strategy around a _plant_ now. As far as Yuusuke was concerned, this was one of the least enjoyable fights he'd been in since the Ankoku Buujuutsukai, and didn't look to improve.

Well, he supposed that one of the demons taking off suddenly counted as an improvement, but not a big enough one to mollify him. What jackass youko idea had made Kurama start all this -- was it him, or were youkai just stupid most of the time? Being the fox so often must be messing with Kurama's head.

Then again, he was somewhat disillusioned about his own intelligence in getting himself into this battle at all. The reikodan had done _nothing._ That was very, very bad. These must be strong demons, as strong as Toguro at least. And a plant was the only thing Kurama thought they could use, for some reason; something about the demons getting slowed down. Yuusuke didn't remember that part. He had been sneezing.

Well, he wasn't going to argue too much; he wasn't the plant master here. He was the ass-kicking master -- _Though you couldn't tell by looking right now with how badly I'm doing --_

His face met rocks with unpleasant suddenness, just as something kicked him in the ribs like an angry horse. He felt himself skip the way rocks do on water, and only managed to twist himself upright in time to bruise his posterior as well on the next bounce.

_"Ow!"_ he yelled, outraged, and killed his momentum by jamming his heels into the ground and furrowing it for a couple of yards. He sighted on Donari. "You _suck!_ Rei gun!"

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Genkai found Yukina sitting up in her bed, silently blinking in the lamplight that she had not yet doused; nor did she show an inclination to do so. She was still and limply relaxed in her upright posture, as only one who had been trained in formality from birth (as the old woman herself had been) might sit, and seemed to contemplate the rice-paper screen before her, picking out each individual tree and crane with her gaze.

When she saw her hostess in the doorway, she made a passing attempt at a smile. "Genkai-baba, I thought you were still busy with the others."

"I finished a while ago," Genkai answered, moving into the room.

"Is it so late?"

"It's past eleven. They're going to be fine, although they'll need constant attention for the next day or so."

"I know. I trust your power enough that I wasn't worried. Will you stay up all night, then, watching over them?"

"Unless you'd like to, yes."

Her smile drooped at the edges, then recovered. "No . . . I think I am too tired."

Genkai, though she knew her eyes were gentle, kept her response curt. "Good. You need to get a lot of sleep to replenish your healing energy. I'll need your help again in the morning."

"I have slept a few hours already," Yukina disclaimed, her tone remaining light. "I woke a few minutes ago, but I'm not sure why -- but some of my power has returned. I think I can be of help later tonight if you need me." She rushed the last part of her sentence.

"I felt you wake." The elderly woman gazed intently but without judgment at the koorime. "You were having a nightmare, weren't you?"

A moment passed, and Yukina's expression crumpled suddenly. Her eyes leaked tears, and gems began to patter onto the coverlet, even as she put her hand over her face to block them. "Please leave, Genkai-baba," she said, her muffled voice steadier than her tears bespoke. "I will sleep more, I promise."

Wordlessly the old woman disregarded the request and entered the room to sit next to Yukina, offering her a white silk handkerchief before saying, "I thought you might be having nightmares tonight. I came to ask you if you want me to make sure you don't."

The koorime blotted her eyes with the fabric, and began to automatically gather up the hiruiseki with her free hand. The spate of tears was already slowing as she regained control of herself. "How?" was her answer.

"A combination of tea and light ki manipulation," said Genkai. "It'll keep you sleeping deeply until morning. You won't be quite as rested this way, but I have a feeling you won't be getting much rest at all without it."

"Yes, thank you." She held out the handful of jewels. "Would you like these?"

Genkai smiled. "No, thank you. You should save them for someone else. Let me get you that tea, child."

"Genkai-baba . . ." Yukina stopped her with a vulnerable look before she could stand. "Genkai-baba," she repeated, "can you tell me -- was I responsible for what happened?" Her lip continued to quiver just a bit. "I didn't help any of them . . . I wasn't even in the village. I hid until it was over, and only came out when the demons had gone."

A headshake. This had been expected. "There would have been no purpose served by trying to defend your village. You'd have died as well, and there would be no survivors. Your entire people would be gone forever."

"But I -- wasn't thinking about any of that. I hated all of them. I only healed them because I felt guilty for letting them get hurt, and now I don't want to see them ever again." The coverlet bunched as she gripped it tightly. "Does that make me evil, Genkai-baba?"

"You're being very silly, girl," Genkai said firmly. "You had plenty of reason to resent your people, but that doesn't change the fact that you are directly responsible for the survival of the six women two rooms away. Whatever your motivation, you did the right thing, and that's what matters."

"You're kind to me," was Yukina's response. She smiled in such a way that the psychic had to suppress a sigh. "I would like the tea as soon as you're willing."

Standing, aware that the issue would not be resolved tonight, Genkai nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Outside, there was a thump.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kurama lost his breath when he saw Yuusuke go down. The attack had been plenty strong enough to kill -- but it appeared, to his relief, that the detective had only been winged at worst; he was back on his feet and firing off a rei gun blast and an insult at the same time.

_Too close._ His adrenaline refused to settle; this wasn't working. He had delayed too long already.

The backlash shoved against the youko's footing, but he was already turning around to use the dazzling light as cover to get behind his enemy. This running would not do -- it had been a faulty plan from the start, and he wondered how far gone he must be to make such strategically unsound decisions. The possibility of hiding was gone, and it made them easy targets, drawing them far from the fern; they should have stopped trying to run as soon as Yuusuke had recovered from the spores, and they no longer needed to buy time. Now it only served as a rather selfish ploy that defeated the entire purpose of drawing the enemy's fire away from his friends.

He did not intend to be so selfish.

As a small sphere of youki left his palm, most of what he had left, he tossed a random seed back toward Yuusuke and Kuwabara and made it burst into growth as a quick decoy. Botan was just visible, having taken to the air again despite his prior warning. He hoped she was a good enough flyer to remain unharmed, especially if this move didn't work.

_I need Donari back by the plant, and focused on me instead of them. I need them to become insignificant enough that she doesn't feel the need to deal with them at all, and will turn her back on them long enough to provide an opportunity. They can defeat her if I can occupy her; we have an advantage that she cannot counter, but only if we can use it effectively. This will -- must -- be Yuusuke's opening._

_And isn't _this _a singularly unintelligent strategy?_

_Leave me alone. It's necessary._

_Is it? I can still escape, you know._

_No, I cannot. They are involved now._

_So?_

_So I'm obligated to help them._

_They got themselves into this, after I told them not to._

He was back in position now, his whip whistling toward Donari's back as it had to her partner's just a short while ago. _That does not lessen my responsibility._

And she was turning before it hit, hearing or sensing it. _What will?_

_Nothing. This is the only course of action left to me._

Yuusuke spun in surprise as he saw the youko so far behind him, and yelled something to Kuwabara that Kurama could not hear. His reiki burned sharply in the air around him. The fox shifted his aim with the whip, to tag the fern at his back instead.

_How very human._

Dust everywhere, the largest expulsion yet. He ducked to the left, trusting it to hide him from his enemy. _I am what I am._ He couldn't hear her anymore; where was she? Yuusuke was still yelling, too loudly --

_I am not a human. I already decided that._

A flash of light through the dust surrounding him.

_I was wrong._

A fierce lance of violet youki connected squarely with his torso, before he could pinpoint her location. It flung him several yards, past the edge of the dust, and he impacted with the rocks, rolled, and struggled to come up standing again. He heard Yuusuke call his name. His chest ached where he had been hit, and he felt more than one broken rib as he inhaled.

And that was it. Nothing more or less than he had expected. No matter what, he was out of this fight, and only one thing might follow. The attack had been far too powerful -- he felt it dash his hopes to shards.

And it did more than that. As Kurama finally, futilely got back on his feet and drew his rose, his hearing dulled, the colors paled around him, and the hair that blew to cover his eyes was not silver but crimson. He was human again.

He tried to flip the hair from his face, but the backblast of wind prevented him, and drove it into his mouth and nose as well. He couldn't see, and threw himself into an instinctive dodge --

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

-- and Yuusuke's heart thudded to a sudden, lurching stop as his lips parted to form Kurama's name --

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

-- and it was in this moment of total vulnerability that he was hit, from a direction he did not anticipate.

Something struck him in the chest with impossible force. He experienced a massive sense of vertigo as his body left the ground and he could see sky intermixed with rocks and dust. The impact of his landing drove the remaining breath from his lungs, and he was stunned, unable to move.

Even before the pain began, and he realized he couldn't breathe, he knew. After all, this wasn't the first time he had died.

A dispassionate corner of his mind calmly reviewed the damage. The attack had punched a fist-sized hole in his lower chest cavity, just above his diaphragm -- his long familiarity with injury supplied him with backup for his instinct just as he was finally able to draw a struggling breath. The wound was fatal, but not immediately; he had several minutes left, maybe five at the outside, if he didn't foolishly move or talk.

That was all right. He could barely imagine trying. The pain was so intense that his vision was blotted out by black and red and white stars, and he could feel every halting intake of air in his chest, creating waves of molten agony. He wanted to scream until his throat went raw, but could not move. Blood rose up in the back of his airway, choking him, and his arms and legs seemed to be disconnected; he couldn't feel them at all. He should have already been unconscious from such a wound -- was he?

No. There was still sound. Yuusuke was shouting, Kuwabara was yelling in pain or anger, Botan was talking in a rapid, high-pitched tone. Donari wasn't making any noise -- not even a laugh, which mildly surprised him. She should be drunk on her power, now that she had killed one of her opponents, even if she hadn't meant it to be him . . .

And abruptly it connected. _It's over. Five minutes, or less, and everything's over._

_I told you so._

_So you did._

No healer he knew could forestall what was now inevitable. It was so sudden that he felt a dizziness; he had gone from beginning to hope he would succeed, to knowing his life would end, in only a minute or two. It was real. There was rock and dust and blood and blinding pain, and all of it was real. Yet he didn't have the energy for shock -- only acceptance, and weariness. _Such a long time to wait; five minutes is nothing . . ._

He was barely aware of being snatched up from the blood-soaked dirt; the jostling of the run only intensified the pain by a small amount. Botan and Kuwabara faded away due to what he assumed was distance and he wondered if it was Yuusuke carrying him. Probably. If so, the other two would bail shortly and rejoin him. He cursed inwardly. The battle was a loss and his hard-won advantage a waste, which he regretted causing; he should have expected Yuusuke to do something hotheaded like this. Well, perhaps they could still use the information he had gained at a later time.

He suddenly regretted even more as he realized he had failed Hiei.

_I could have tried harder to live through this; I was careless yet again. He'll be furious with me. He might not speak to me again . . . assuming I ever see him . . . I wonder where he is._ Maybe Koenma would let Kurama talk with him for a short while if he had not already been sent on; the Jaganshi deserved a personal apology for the foolishness that had led the kitsune to this. Maybe Kurama would even be forgiven. That would make him happy.

When he was ferried to the Reikai, would he be able to face the godling calmly? His anger seemed quite far away at the moment, and he thought he might be able to. There really wasn't anything left to be angry about now. As long as Hiei understood, he could think of nothing else he felt the need to do.

There were explosions. He wasn't sure whether or not they were anywhere near him, though, so he ignored them. He drifted, and endured, and pondered. All was as expected, and the better for it; after all, what did he lose by dying? At least he had been able to put up a fight and gain his companions some leverage against Donari. There wasn't much leverage to be had, so he was only glad to have obtained it, and that alone was worth his life.

And what a life it had been. So many centuries -- he had lived far longer than he had any right. His icy cruelty as the youko had brought with it the reward of more than a millennium of life, casually rent from all those around him in order to preserve itself above them; the years spent in the human world were only lies, secrets, and manipulations worthy of the most devious fox that had ever lived. He had used everyone he had ever known -- used, and then disposed of -- and now, with his last ties severed, he could give back just this once. Any other death was without meaning or honor; together with the pain, a sense akin to gratitude almost made him want to weep. Perhaps he did. He wasn't sure.

After a time, there was more jostling, and he was again lying on the ground. He felt the rocks, and blessed the sudden stillness and quiet. While he had been thinking about other things, the pain had receded, so subtly that he hadn't noticed, so that now it was only a dull ache at the edge of his senses. It was at this point, he remembered, that he ought to leave his body. If he wanted to survive, he had to find a new one now. But no -- he'd already done that. It probably wouldn't work this time, and besides, he had already decided he didn't want to do it again. The child deserved a life of its own, after all. He was curious, and wondered what had happened to the unborn soul of the infant whose body, preserved beyond its time, now lay bleeding in the dust.

Did the real Shuiichi understand?

"Kurama! Kurama, can you hear me?"

It _was_ Yuusuke. Kurama opened his eyes, though he didn't recall having closed them. At first he couldn't see, and had to blink away tears that had appeared without his notice; a few rolled coldly down his temples. Once they were no longer blocking his vision, it was painfully bright, and the colors of sand and rock and dark-blotched yellow tunic were overlaid with a copper-blue tint. Yuusuke was bent over him, looking somewhat frantic, and Kurama hastened to reassure him -- it appeared he would be foolishly talking after all. His first attempt at speech failed, and he had to cough and swallow until his throat was clear of blood. The second try was better; he could speak clearly, if in a whisper. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

There was relief on the detective's face. He had propped Kurama up in his lap, holding him with an arm around his shoulders. "I'm fine, and you're going to be fine, too. We pushed the demon back and I've sent Kuwabara and Botan to get Yukina, and she can get you stabilized until we can take you to Genkai. Just stay with me for a few minutes."

"Don't be foolish," the kitsune whispered with irony. "I know a mortal wound when I feel it. You're wasting your time -- you should have continued to fight. You had the advantage."

"What, and leave you like this? Don't get stupid on me now." Yuusuke smoothed some matted hair out of Kurama's face. Interestingly, he could see but not feel the fingers on his cheek. They were shaking.

He gave what might have been a dry chuckle. "I'm not. I'll be dead within moments, Yuusuke. You must realize that. Even Yukina's healing power won't prevent it now." He smiled. "Thank you for your concern. You've been a good friend."

"Stop it," the shorter boy ordered. "You're not gonna die as long as I'm around. Just keep talking to me."

"I'll try, but it won't make any difference. I already can't feel my limbs." Which was true, if a bit misleading. There was no need to tell Yuusuke that the loss of feeling had been almost instantaneous.

"I said cut it out." He was looking worried again. "That's no way to talk."

"It's only the truth. You know it as well as I."

"The only thing I _know,_ you son of a bitch, is that they'll be back any minute with Yukina, and she's gonna heal you. Now don't piss me off, or I'll take it out of your pelt when you're better."

Kurama was reasonably certain he managed to raise an eyebrow, and knew he smiled sardonically. "Denial isn't usual for you."

Yuusuke ignored the expression and placed a hand on Kurama's wound, gently; the kitsune felt energy being transferred, and wondered why it didn't seem to hurt at all. "Maybe you _shouldn't_ be talking," the black-haired boy said in a dry voice that was marred by a slight, high-pitched overtone. "You can't even say anything smart anyway. Just try to stay awake."

He said something more, a question, but somehow Kurama missed it entirely. He meant to ask his friend to repeat it, and thought he had; Yuusuke did not. His eyes became sharper, afraid.

"Hey, are you listening to me? Pay attention!"

"I am," the redhead replied, with an effort. It was harder to talk of a sudden, and the metallic blue had intensified to the point where none of Yuusuke's colors seemed quite right anymore. His senses were failing him so quickly . . . "Do you know -- your eyes are blue?" he asked. It was a silly question, and he hadn't meant to say it. Yuusuke had brown eyes, not blue, although they did look quite blue at the moment.

He was completely numb now. He couldn't even feel his lips as they moved.

"Whoa, don't start hallucinating now! Hold it together, Kurama!" the Tantei insisted, gripping his shoulder convulsively.

He sounded angry. That was how Kurama could tell he was terrified. That wasn't a good thing; it was unnecessary, and Kurama didn't want his friend to be needlessly afraid. The youkai strove for one more moment of coherency. "Don't be like this, Yuusuke. There's no need. I've lived long enough, and there's very little pain. I will miss you and the others."

"No, you won't, because you're not going anywhere!"

A slight smile, perhaps. "Whatever you say."

"Stop that, you bastard! You are _not_ gonna die on me! You're not that stupid, and you're definitely not that cruel!"

"Not cruel?" That was almost funny. Kurama thought he might laugh -- had laughed? -- at the notion. Who had ever been crueler than he? Hiei's tribe, perhaps; or Koenma. Maybe they were crueler. But the youko had been ruthless, and he would not have spared Yuusuke's feelings even at the end. He would have taunted -- should he? It didn't seem appropriate somehow . . .

"Hey! _Hey!_ Dammit, _look at me when I'm talking to you!"_

Wasn't he? Kurama found Yuusuke was right; he wasn't looking at his friend, or at much of anything. He tried to bring Yuusuke back into focus, and thought he succeeded for a moment. But it didn't quite resemble Yuusuke, and he almost thought it was Kuronue before he remembered that his partner was off somewhere else.

"You listen to me!" the shouting continued. "You're not gonna do this! You stay with me until Yukina gets here! Do _not_ fall asleep, damn you!"

Kurama's head rocked -- had Yuusuke slapped him? It could have been a punch. Not that it had hurt; in fact, he had barely noticed. _I'm in shock,_ he analyzed, finally bothering to think about it. A schoolbook lesson. _Loss of feeling, dilated pupils, difficulty breathing_ -- These were bad signs, he remembered, especially when one was badly hurt; the shock itself could cause death before the injury. But it was sort of pleasant. For one, though now he could only dimly recall being hit, the agony of a mortal wound was excruciating. Shock was a blessing, the body's defense against unbearable sensation. _But youkai don't have this,_ he thought, watching some muzzy grey cloud that had meandered into his field of vision, _so we feel everything. Every last second . . ._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Do _not_ fall asleep, damn you!"

Kurama had gone vacant-eyed, and his eyelids were beginning to fall. Yuusuke grabbed his collar and gave him a savage, backhanded slap across the cheek. The eyelids jumped, and Kurama took a sharp, shallow breath -- and closed his eyes entirely with a small sigh.

"No! Dammit, _no!"_ Yuusuke struck him again, and again, hard enough to bruise. "You won't! I won't let you! Dammit, dammit, wake the hell up! I said _wake up!"_

The slaps weren't working. In desperation he kept trying, putting reiki behind them and leaving white marks under the smears of blood.

_No, no, no, no, you can't do this . . ._

Kurama was still breathing, but there was no time, if he didn't wake up now then he might never wake up again, so Yuusuke kept slapping him, shaking him, cursing and yelling and watching tears splash onto the inert face, over and over and over --

"Yuusuke!"

-- and he wasn't breathing anymore, _he wasn't breathing anymore,_ there was no sign of movement, his eyes were still closed, he wasn't breathing anymore --

"Get _off,_ Urameshi!"

Kuwabara appeared from nowhere and gave Yuusuke a violent shove. He tumbled to one side, accidentally losing his grip on Kurama's collar and hitting his head on a rock as he landed. Hands were holding him down. He struggled without thinking, but after a moment he heard Yukina's voice: "Kazuma, help me!" The hands let him go just as his vision cleared. He saw the back of Kuwabara's uniform, partially blocking one limp, silken sleeve.

He scrambled up. Botan and Yukina had their hands, glowing yellow and white, over Kurama's wound; Kuwabara's, glowing orange, were higher up, over the kitsune's heart. Kurama's body jerked, then relaxed, then jerked again.

At a momentary loss for what to do, Yuusuke instinctively shoved in between Botan and Yukina and gripped both of their arms. Without thought he opened a direct, unrestricted channel to his energy.

Their hands began to change, from white and yellow to a brilliant blue, and Yuusuke remembered nothing more.

* * *

_(hides under something) The angst muses made me -- THEY MADE ME!_


	12. Black Space

Part 12:  
Black Space

_Wow. I averaged over 1000 words a day for more than a week to finish this thing. It's so very neat to have it free-flow like this! This chapter is much less action-oriented, and is instead geared towards dialogue and the establishment of a few facts, so expect a big slow-down from what happened last. In addition, it's extremely profanity-heavy; you've been warned. Please tell me if my characterization is off at all -- my beta tells me (once again) that this is not so, but I'm somehow worried that she lies to me. She keeps telling me there's nothing at all wrong with my chapters, and I'm starting to get suspicious (she's looking shifty-eyed, I see it!). In any case, please do enjoy._

* * *

Consciousness returned in stages. The gray fog began to sluggishly lift, allowing the movement of air across his skin to become his first tactile sensation; and though there was still no sound, he thought (yes, that _was_ a thought) that it might be because it was quiet here.

He had lost awareness of himself for a time, he realized, only as that awareness was regained -- and it was light around him, as his other senses awoke and his eyes flickered open. There were few colors, and though it was excruciatingly bright, his eyes did not sting as they adjusted enough to recognize his surroundings; shaking himself, he realized that he was having trouble orienting himself because he was nearly upside-down. Righting made the slight dizziness go away.

It was midnight, with the gibbous moon the vast brightness that had pierced his vision, and he was alone above the dusty plain.

Hiei took a long moment to realign his astral senses and absorb the fact that there was no one here any longer. Nor did he see movement or life of any kind, in any direction, though he searched in vain for a long interval. They had all just been here -- but it had been evening then. He must have been out for hours. Now all that marked what had passed here was an unsteady blood trail leading from the south, to end at an enormous dark patch in the sand, surrounded by scuff marks and blurred footprints that the wind had all but obliterated.

All of that blood, darkened and dry and silvered by the moonlight, was Kurama's. It had soaked into the ground for nearly a yard's diameter, already having attracted several scavenging youkai, judging by the claw depressions at its rim; but when Hiei had last been conscious, the blood had still been fresh, and the kitsune had trembled on the knife-edge of survival, his frantic teammates surrounding him with all their power bent on saving his life.

A surge of terror returned to him, automatically suppressed, an echo of the moment he had arrived to see Yuusuke bent over Kurama, screaming and _crying_ and shaking him, radiating despair like a miasma. His eyes, wild and almost unseeing, had not registered his other friends landing near him until they had pried him from the dying fox with physical force.

Overlaying Hiei's visual memory was the screech of his now-silent urgency that had told him he was too late. He remembered catapulting from the racing oar, knifing the air towards the scene, using his fire to consume the oxygen that he imagined was slowing him down -- and stalling out inches from the failing body, powerless to stop what was already occurring.

But he had not been too late to realize what Yuusuke was doing.

_-- hovering between two souls in a netherspace of pure energy -- a shimmering shield of heat, battered by the entirety of Yuusuke's formidable reiki -- such a folly, and such pain --_

-- and a brilliant, empty night.

How had he lost himself? Souls were not subject to unconsciousness, only withdrawal, as he well knew; but the _power_ he had kept at bay with his tiny barrier had been so immense, so desperate and unformed, that it had overwhelmed him. It may have come close to destroying him entirely, if such was possible.

He could not recall having actually decided to do that. He merely _had._ Yuusuke's ignorant recklessness had snatched all thought from him, in more than one way.

_And where have they gone now?_ he wondered. It was impossible to tell if they were even in this world any longer; what few useful senses Hiei had possessed in this state were depleted to the point of nonexistence. He did not even know -- could not _remember,_ damn it all -- if Kurama lived. Even the danger-sense had deserted him, choosing to cease its shrilling in his ears, and there was a vacancy, a void left in its place.

He needed to know what that vacancy meant. He could not remain here, though he knew not where to go.

Feeling a peculiar wash of sadness, tinged with self-contempt, he took the only action remaining that might answer his questions, and left the scene of desolation behind him to begin searching once more.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

_The first thing he was conscious of was that he was covered in blood. It coated his hands and blotted his clothing, and a splash had hit him in the cheek and dripped down onto his shoulder. He had to swallow down sudden, uncharacteristic nausea at the slippery, sticky feeling on his skin._

_Then he became aware of Kurama. The redhead was lying still on the rocky ground where Yuusuke knelt. His eyes were closed, his features slack, and his head lolled. His clothes were soaked all the way to the elbows and knees; the lance of youki had gone _through _him, and the material drew the blood in as though designed for absorbency. The contrast was shocking, the too-pale skin and yellow silk against all that crimson, and even more so because Yuusuke knew it to be deliberate. But Kurama had intended for the contrast to be with his long red hair, not -- this._

_A tiny, feathery sliver of consciousness knew he was in shock. He could do nothing but stare at Kurama for a long moment, at the vermilion stain that was still growing in the dust around him. He had never seen so much blood before. His own kills were clean, concise, and rarely spilled any at all -- he found it much more effective to simply destroy his enemies rather than wound them, and his type of energy attack seared and cauterized on impact._

_He had seen Kurama bleed before. A dozen surface wounds, wounds that tore apart his skin, had stained his clothing at the Tournament, when he had nearly lost his life to Karasu -- but even that had been a small amount compared to now. Yuusuke could only sit numbly, watching as Kurama bled out in front of him. In another few minutes, he would bleed to death._

_He could be dead already._

_They were the same clothes Kurama had worn for that battle, Yuusuke was suddenly aware. He had worn the same yellow silk tunic and white shirt --_

_It snapped him back to lucidity. He shook himself, horrified at his lack of action, and pulled the kitsune to him by the shoulders so that he could hold him up. More blood ran lazily down his arm. "Kurama!" he said urgently, voice cracking. "Kurama, can you hear me?"_

Please hear me . . . please talk to me --

_There was a moment, an eternal moment, of nothing. A cold wash of acid went through his gut, and he couldn't remember how to breathe. This wasn't happening -- this couldn't be happening. Kurama couldn't be --_

"Yuusuke?"

The dream disintegrated.

There was a lot of light in this room; Yuusuke had to blink rapidly to avoid the headache he felt lurking behind his eyes. He was disoriented, and it took him a moment to realize that he was in bed, on tatami, staring up at a dark wooden ceiling -- why the hell was he at Genkai's temple?

Now the voice penetrated, and he looked up and to the left. His redheaded friend, wearing loose silk pajamas, was sitting next to him, smiling enigmatically. He had a bright scarlet coverlet across his lap, over which wan sunlight sprinkled through the window, making patterns. Yuusuke almost asked why they were here --

He was upright so quickly that the headache slammed him instantly in the forehead, momentarily robbing him of vision. He paid no attention.

He grabbed Kurama by the arm and yanked him in close so that their faces were almost touching -- saw the startled expression and heard the quick intake of breath -- took in the overly pale cheeks with faint bruises across the bones, the dark-ringed eyes, and the pain-lines surrounding them both. He stared until his eyes crossed, breathing rapidly, without a single clear thought able to make its way through his mind.

Birds were chirping outside.

"Yuusuke . . ." said Kurama. "I'm glad to see you're all right."

Yuusuke punched him.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"My father," said Koenma as he sank into a cushion and accepted a cup of hot tea, "is going to fire me."

"And why would that be?" Genkai sat opposite him, appearing as tired as he but still alert and wry as she always managed to be. "What's wrong with bailing your team out of a tight spot once in a while?"

He grimaced at that -- but few things in his life were that simple. "I broke more than a few rules in just getting here, let alone saving them. They're not little, insignificant rules, either. I'm demoted for sure."

"Oh, well. At least you'll get canned for doing something useful," she answered, pointedly adding, "for once."

The two of them conversed in one of the few rooms remaining at the temple that was not currently being employed as a sickroom or recovery ward, several hours after they had finally finished their work. As the only two conscious people in the building, they had more than enough time to catch up on matters -- or so Genkai had said when she appeared in Yuusuke and Kurama's sickroom, where he had been keeping vigil, and hauled him in for tea. He would just as soon have fallen into bed himself as soon as he had finally been satisfied that his constant attention was no longer needed, but one did not argue with this particular psychic on her home turf; most especially when one had nowhere else to stay. He wished vainly that the tea might have a soporific in it, so this would be a shorter talk.

"And I was trying so hard to avoid messing up, too -- but I wasn't thinking very clearly after Botan called me on the mirror. Don't get me wrong, I'm not regretting coming to the rescue, but now my father will have to take notice of everything that's been going on." He sighed. "I was hoping to have this situation with the demons neutralized before that happened. I can still probably get things worked out in time, but it'll be close, and it won't make him less mad at me."

"Stop whining. May I ask what rules you broke?"

He laughed a little in self-mockery. "The fun part of being a kami in charge of death is that I'm not supposed to meddle in it until it's already happened -- after that, I can only operate under certain guidelines. Using my power to save Kurama's life is a classic example of what I'm never supposed to do, and saving Yuusuke's life was even worse, since that was his second chance anyway."

"He is the dumbest damned kid I've ever met," Genkai said congenially into her tea. "Even I wouldn't have used Botan and Yukina as conduits for my own energy, much less _all_ of it. If they hadn't been able to bleed it off into the ground, he could have killed them, himself, _and_ Kurama. At least you and Kuwabara gave him back enough life energy to keep him from having to pay for that little stunt."

"I really wish he'd stop doing that. And they couldn't even use any of it, could they?"

The aged psychic shook her head. "What Yuusuke doesn't understand is that most of his power is destructive, not healing. It was much more likely to have torn Kurama apart than fixed him." She refreshed her already empty teacup with more near-boiling brew. "It was a nice thought, though, and if I'd been in his place and didn't know what the consequences might be -- and didn't care if I died -- I'd probably have tried it, too. There was nothing else that had any chance of working. If _you_ were anyone else, you'd also have failed -- Kurama was beyond help. Someone less powerful would have died instantly from that wound, and it was a miracle he lasted as long as he did. Even in top form, before I gave my power to Yuusuke, I doubt _I_ could have saved his life."

"And that's saying a lot." The bronze eyes were grave. "I got him out of that one by luck only; and Yuusuke, too. Another minute or two and I'd have had to resurrect them both instead of healing them, which would have not only gotten me fired, but probably would have gotten both of them imprisoned. Daddy doesn't like handing out unapproved second chances -- or third chances, like it would have been for them."

She snorted. "What's the difference?"

"Time, mostly. I can't just bring people back instantly. There's energy wavelength problems, and physical trauma issues. It would have been a week at least, and an unholy amount of unauthorized paperwork, not to mention a drain on some energy resources I'm supposed to conserve for _legitimate_ resurrections. And that's still assuming that nothing would have happened to interfere with the process."

"Pah. Bureaucracies."

"Rules and red tape and all that crap, I know. It's kind of funny that that's what's going to get me kicked out of Reikai. Still, as long as I don't screw up any worse Daddy'll probably forgive me eventually, once he's had a decade or so to cool off."

"Indeed." Her tone was caustic.

Several moments passed during which there was no speech, and Koenma began to feel drowsy. Like Genkai, and everyone else, he was pretty much out of usable energy, which was a first for him; and Reikai was never this quiet, even at night, with the shishi-odoshi outside making such a perfect counterpart to the near-silent morning that it was like the sedative he had hoped for. The only thing keeping him from requesting escape to bed was that he knew Genkai, and she wasn't done talking to him.

Rather, she was making him wait -- which meant she was angry. He braced for collision, and yet the fact that it never came was somehow not at all surprising.

After about five minutes of waiting, he figured he'd better get it over with before he fell asleep sitting up. "What do you want to talk to me about, really?" he inquired neutrally.

She was only a moment before answering, her expression burgeoning into the hard-lined mask he had expected. "I want to know what the hell you think you're doing," she stated bluntly. "You've singlehandedly made one of the worst messes I've ever seen, and you've trampled all over your team in the process -- not to mention your stupidity in trying to clean it up. You're more half-assed than Yuusuke."

He bristled. "You have no right to speak to me like --"

"I have every right and a damn good reason," she snapped, interrupting him. "You sent that boy to me and you made him my responsibility as well as your own. That means I've got a right to know exactly how you justify screwing him up the way you've been doing this past month. You lied to him and you got his friend killed, and you lied to him again and you almost got his _other_ friend killed, and you _will_ answer to me for that now." Her gaze bored into him. "You're covering your own ass at the expense of everyone who trusted you, and I have no respect for that at all. I know what that artifact was. I can and will go over your head."

His eyes which had been steadily narrowing during her speech, went very, very wide. "You're not serious!"

Her only reply was a decidedly grim laugh.

Koenma felt panic rise up in his throat, demanding to be voiced -- Genkai was a woman who seldom bluffed, and never when it came to her former student. She would, really would, take whatever she knew to his father, undoing _centuries_ of careful cover-up and misdirection just to make a point.

He tried several times to speak without screeching, and eventually succeeded in saying, "You have no idea of the implications of doing that!"

"Hardly," Genkai said dryly. "You'd just never get forgiven. You'd be replaced and the Tantei would be out of a job, and your father would have to clean up after you. Sounds like a plan to me."

"But there _is_ no one to replace me!" he shouted, losing what remained of his calm. "Do you think I'd have kept this job with the way I've been messing up if there _were_ anyone else? I'm the only one, the only heir, and it would take a hundred years for another son to be old enough, even if my father had one tomorrow! He'd have to be personally in charge again, and if he had to do that for more than a few years his work in the Tenkai would be --"

He halted, eyes even wider, and let horror tinge his expression.

Genkai raised a slow eyebrow at him. "Tenkai. Really. I always thought he went on too many 'vacations' to really be all that indolent."

"No one," Koenma said in hushed and tight tones, "is supposed to know that. Forget you heard it, and most especially do not tell anyone else."

"What's your worry?" she asked, setting down her teacup to pull out a slim cigarette, which she lit from an ornate lighter with deliberate sloth. "If he's really angry enough to sack you for good, that's more his problem than yours, unless you're actually getting paid for the crap you do -- which I doubt. You don't care particularly much for your job, judging by the amount you complain, and you might end up with something that would suit your laziness better than being in charge of damn near everything. Why should you care if I tattle on you about the Orb? Why should you care if I spread around that little tidbit of information?" Her eyes were still penetrating despite her now-relaxed bearing. "Or do you have worse punishment to avoid than losing your special privileges?"

He wilted before that gaze. It was too late; she knew everything else, and she might as well know this, too. "I -- he'd make me mortal."

"Ah. Now we're getting somewhere." A puff of smoke wafted his way. "And what's so terrible about being mortal? Some of us like it quite well."

He just shook his head. There was no way to explain it; he would lose his birthright, his future, and his very identity, and he simply didn't think there was anything to which he could compare that prospect -- except for death. She would find that analogy extreme, and ridicule him for it.

"So," she said after a few moments during which she clearly expected him to answer her. "Whatever being mortal means to you, you've decided it's worse than permanently damaging everyone you're supposed to be looking out for. Good for you; that's solid demon philosophy, wouldn't you say?"

His neck snapped vertical and he gaped at her, shocked by the cruelty of her words.

She continued, "It's too late to claim you've been doing all you could for Yuusuke and the rest of your team. Everything you've done has been to benefit yourself at their expense. Lying was not the only way and you knew it -- you could have told them the truth and trusted them to keep it secret. You could have given them clear instructions about the weapon and how best to counter it, and you could have made them _another_ one if you'd had to, just so you could get the first one back. They'd have cleaned this thing up for you with no problems whatsoever.

"You kept it all secret because you were afraid for your precious divinity, and now you've got one of your team dead, one suicidal, one stretched to his limit, and the last one on the verge of emotional and mental breakdown. And all of them but the first are still in mortal danger." She was visibly angry again now, and let the cigarette burn itself out in her hand. "Congratulations on a job well done."

Koenma stared at her, stricken beyond words at her accusation, speechless and numb. His thought process stalled out. He was left with one clear image of himself: selfish, self-serving, haughty and proud -- above everyone else, and willing to sacrifice anyone to get what he wanted. He had never once seen himself like this before, and it shook him, making refutation impossible. Her words rang more true than every rationalization he had concocted over the years, every justification; and he could not say that she was wrong.

It was entirely possible that he was, really and truly, evil. After all, Hiei had told him the same thing.

Finally, just when he thought he might never be able to speak again, one word penetrated beyond the rest and swam through the fog of shock to make it past his lips. "Suicidal?"

She gave him a sharp look at this single word after so long a silence. "You don't think it was just an accident that those demons got to Kurama so quickly, do you? Botan told me he went straight to them -- and there's only one reason he would have done that. Knowing him, he probably spent the last few days devising a careful, rational, and perfectly nuanced plan to get himself killed, and convinced himself it was his best chance of winning. And he very nearly succeeded." The woman took a drag on her now-depleted smoke, and added, "You think _Yuusuke_ has had a rough time of it. At least he isn't trying to join Hiei."

This was more than the kami could take; he put his head in his hands. He had had no _idea_ -- that Yuusuke had been hurt, he had known and regretted; that Hiei had been damaged to the point of death had been shocking but (in hindsight) should have been predictable; but this knowledge of Kurama was beyond his ability even to grasp. The redhead was always so calm, so much in control, and so self-assured that it was impossible to think of him as self-destructive and seeking death. His vast intelligence was a constant on which Koenma had come to depend, and he knew the demon well enough to have long ago recognized the shrewd self-interest pulling side-by-side with loyalty and affection.

Even when he had nearly died before, he had always been accomplishing something, much like Yuusuke -- and there was always that facet of him that Koenma had only glimpsed and that he never showed openly, the Kurama that was still all youkai and was considering whether it was worth it to run, to abandon his comrades to their fate. That part of him was intrinsic, and only the most powerful of traumas could possibly have touched at so deep a level.

To realize that he had completely destroyed no fewer than three lives -- to have come so close to destroying them _all_ --

Genkai was continuing inexorably with her speech. "And the best part of this little scenario is that Kurama's too proud to admit to himself that he's got a death wish. Ten to one he'll stand firmly by the assessment that he was doing his best to survive; I'm tempted to have words with him about it once he wakes up, but I can't bully him into listening to reason like I can with Yuusuke. It's going to take a while to get him to admit he's not so damned perfect, and Yuusuke isn't going to make it any better when he comes to."

Just at that moment, an outraged yell disjointed the calm morning, reverberating down the hallway and reaching them with plenty of volume to spare:

_"What the hell were you _thinking?"

"Ah," said Genkai. "Right on time."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

A solitary cushion of the deepest green velvet had been carefully, lovingly flayed apart in strips, and scattered at random across tables, chairs and its fellows. Down feathers made the air thick and unbreathable, as did the faint scorched scent of wrath left unindulged; the cushion had been its one outlet, and the only casualty. Having until lately been an unobtainable frivolity for one previously ineffectual, even in the midst of ire the furniture was too precious to be wantonly smashed. It had taken far too long -- weeks, at least -- merely to find its quality.

But, oh, how she longed to decimate everything she could see! It would be such a glorious fury, to leave all in ruins for a mile or more, and not a mouse alive in the aftermath to doubt her power. The cushion substituted poorly for treelengths of wreckage and death.

Or, as an even sweeter vision, the brutalized, abased body of a lustrous silver fox with sultry eyes and a smoky smile.

But her own clumsiness had rendered that impossible now. Hence, her foul mood and dark demeanor that almost let her spines show through, alone as she was now. That fool Gendou had not returned -- intelligent of him, for once, as she did not intend to welcome him back. However, she did not doubt she would have to deal with him eventually; he would stand in her path as all other youkai when she began her conquest.

And why had she not yet done so? Why had she been so content with such a diminutive paring of land, a few spies, and a single personal slave? "Always thinking and doing nothing" -- but she valued planning, and could not imagine any successful venture conducted without it. There had been too much information required that she did not yet have; one of the hazards of pressing spies into service was that they tended to be inefficient, in ways that could neither be proven nor punished. And the fox had given her a thorough illusion of affluence.

Thoughts had come about once again, as they had moved in their concentric circles since her return home. Her only personal slave -- the only one who had seemed worthy to serve her directly -- and he had escaped her not once, but twice. Never had she been so thwarted since she had gained her power. Above all she had desired to capture him again, bend him to her will, and punish him well for spurning her service. He had been valuable to her as a symbol of status, and she had not intended to let him get away.

In her haste and ignorance, she had killed him instead. His visage had changed, and he had no longer been a fox -- he had another form of which she had not been aware, one as human-seeming as her own, but it seemed it had been the weaker, and had crumpled before a blow that should only have disabled. She would not even have sent a further attack had he not looked to regain his feet, proving (or so she had thought) more resilient than her anticipation. The dust had settled on a sight utterly unexpected: a young human boy with bright red hair, and equally bright red blood.

The igurka had already been well-punished for neglecting to inform her of this eventuality. She had known they were not telling her everything they found, but their omissions were usually harmless enough. This time, having cost her her objective, she'd had to make examples of several, and set the rest to working even harder than they had before. She would need the information; now that Gendou had deserted her, she would have to revise many of her plans for subjugating the Makai to allow for better control without the backup option of delegation. Not that she had intended to trust him with overly much, but she knew it would be considerably more difficult to keep track of everything herself.

Resumption of her planning soothed her inclement mood and let her relax a bit. Since she already owned this sector, it made the most logical sense to expand westward across the Plains and beyond. The icy settlement had been a premature spike in that direction anyway. Following that, north seemed a good notion once she had some better idea of the terrain, and then back east to form a sizeable square of territory which would be easier to oversee than the line she had originally planned. There was little enough knowledge that she yet needed, given the work she had set the igurka before her fox had deserted -- Gendou's impatience aside, they _had_ been very close to ready until they had been sidetracked.

But she had wanted the youko back so very badly. Many acknowledged her as powerful, but none as beautiful, save for him. He had seemed to genuinely care for her and wish to serve her -- even had she had to wipe his mind, he would have been a reminder of that feeling that no one else had extended her. Very much did she desire to recall it again.

Curse her clumsiness! She had wasted her chance, and damn the fox for being so weak. Now all that remained was to discard her half-formed wishes, and focus on what truly mattered: power.

There was someone outside her door.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Kurama lay where he'd landed, hair covering his face, letting Yuusuke's fury wash over him. He tasted blood inside his cheek -- how he hated that taste now -- and did not dare move; he would be unable to take another blow in his current state, and would probably lose consciousness. He doubted in any case that he had the strength to get up again.

When he had first woken to unfamiliar surroundings, it had been this weakness, and the echoing pain in his chest, that had at last convinced him that he was alive. It seemed a ludicrous notion that his mind could not reconcile with memory, and yet he was not in the Reikai, and there had been no shinime come to take him over to his sentencing. There had been only stillness, the quiet tap-tapping of shishi-odoshi, and a dreadful weariness in his bones.

How he had survived his wounds, he still did not know -- to recall Yuusuke's eyes was to know it had been hopeless.

And the pain made him frail, barely able to move at first. A finger-twitch, a turn of the head, had been as much as he could manage, as he struggled to comprehend that he was _here._ And here must be the temple; it smelled faintly of Genkai's special incense, and no other place made sense in any case. True, he had never seen this room before, but it was on the east side of the building (by the sun through the window), and he supposed it was a private space not meant for visitors.

A little more strength, and he had caught sight of a bright color to his right. Yuusuke was sleeping next to him under a sky-blue cover, and Kurama had been immediately alarmed at the haggard face and hollow eyes. Yuusuke must have been wounded as well, to be sharing his sickroom -- had the demoness caught up? Had the battle continued, and gone badly? How had Yuusuke escaped -- and where were the others?

He had tried to search for their ki, and found his senses as feeble as he. But then Yuusuke had stirred, and Kurama had forced his muscles to sit him up so that he, at least, would not appear invalid and worry Yuusuke even further. The effort had left him nearly immobile for a full minute after.

And now, even as he lay still, listening to his irascible teammate yell at him in blind, nearly incoherent rage, he was still not at all certain what he felt about waking among the living. It seemed Fate had decided to reward him once again with wholly undeserved good fortune -- or perhaps this was just another form of punishment. It certainly felt like it at the moment.

"You _asshole!_ Are you _trying_ to kill yourself now? _Answer me, dammit!"_

Well. No help for it. "Yuusuke," he said, "will you please help me to sit up?"

"Fuck you!" the detective screamed. Kurama heard something break.

He tried again. "I truly cannot move, Yuusuke."

"Good! Then you're not being _retarded!"_

It seemed he was on his own, then. Slowly he began to conserve his energy, working towards at least moving his hair out of the way. His chest ached sharply, matching the pulse in his already swelling jaw. Whoever had healed him had run low on power before the task had been completed; there were still internal injuries that could yet be dangerous if he overstrained himself. "That's not exactly fair," he said, keeping his tone bone-dry to cover for his weakness. "Failure hardly constitutes stupidity. I did my best, the same as you." And his hand had obeyed repeated commands and brushed aside most of the vermilion strands so that he could see.

Yuusuke looked angrier than he'd ever witnessed before, and not in the least willing to listen to reason. "Shut up! What else besides _retarded_ do you call running off _alone_ where your enemies can find you without even _trying?_ What the hell kind of plan was _that_ supposed to be?"

"I was attempting to surprise them," he said, feeling a bit more defensive. "Unless I wanted to be hunted down and surrender any advantage I might have had, there was little else I could do."

"That's _crap!_ You had plenty of places to hide!" Yuusuke took two steps and grabbed Kurama's collar, lifting him forcibly upright. "You're not that stupid, so I want to know what you thought you were doing!"

This hurt. This hurt quite a lot. Kurama kept it from his face, and met Yuusuke's eyes with difficulty. "I wanted to make sure you had a chance of victory. It was my best option, Yuusuke --"

_"It was a stupid thing to do!"_ Yuusuke roared. "It was _suicide_ and you knew it! What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you fucking _care_ anymore?"

The redhead just looked at him, feeling no need to answer such a ridiculous question.

The door slid open to reveal an exhausted and breathless Yukina, in time for her to watch the raven-haired detective hurl Kurama against the wall with every ounce of his strength, pinning him with one arm at his throat and ignoring his involuntary gasp of pain and surprise. "Don't you dare give me any of your bullshit," he hissed. "If you _ever_ do that, _ever_ again, I _swear_ I'll take you apart before the demons even have a chance!"

"Kazuma!" Yukina called down the hallway.

It was now impossible for Kurama to move at all, and his teeth were clenched against agony. But it was not for Yuusuke to know how much he was hurting him -- his gaze was steady and his eyes guarded to prevent it from showing. "Let me go," was all he said.

"Fine!" Yuusuke dropped him, letting him land hard and standing over him with fists clenched. "Fuck you! You selfish bastard -- don't pretend you did that to help _me!_ What the hell makes you think I even _care_ about winning if you're going to get yourself _killed?"_

Pounding footsteps preceded the arrival of Kuwabara from down the hall, skidding and using inertia to swing himself through the doorway around Yukina. "Urameshi!" he yelled, shocked at the scene before him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm telling Kurama he's an _aho_ and what are _you_ gonna do about it?"

"He's still really hurt! You shouldn't be shoving him around, you dumbass!" Kuwabara pushed Yuusuke back a couple paces and knelt down at Kurama's side.

The redhead had not lost his lock on Yuusuke's eyes, and was not about to -- he paid Kuwabara minimal attention. He was beginning to respond to his friend's anger with some of his own. The Tantei was being thoroughly irrational and unnecessarily violent, and Kurama did not at all appreciate the assertion that his plan had been not only faulty but _selfish_ as well. After all the trouble to which he had gone to ensure Yuusuke's survival, this was not the reception he had expected. A little bit of anger, perhaps, to purge the aftershocks of fear -- but this was completely uncalled-for.

The youkai in him rose unbidden to the fore with a trace of well-deserved cruelty. "Perhaps next time, instead," he said icily, "I ought to let you charge in without any idea of what to expect, and without attempting to gain you any advantage. That would, of course, be less selfish?"

"Shut the hell up!"

"Stop it, you two!" Kuwabara hollered. "Neither of you has enough energy to be fighting right now!" He put a hand on Kurama's shoulder, and pulled it back in shock. "Hey -- you're bleeding! Did you _hit_ him, Urameshi?"

"So what if I _did?"_

A small trickle of blood had indeed escaped from the corner of his mouth, courtesy of the badly-bitten cheek. It heightened his newfound anger just that much more. "I am fine," he said deliberately. "Please leave."

"But you can't --"

"Leave. Now." His tone brooked no disagreement.

Hesitating, the boy finally stood. "Fine, but don't hurt each other anymore! No one can heal you for a while until we all get our strength back!" He leveled a tight gaze on Yuusuke. "And you shouldn't be hitting him anyway, Urameshi! You're the one that almost died to save his life, so stop screaming at him and let him get some rest!"

_"Get out!"_ Yuusuke yelled at volume.

"Fine!" Kuwabara repeated. The door closed on him and the distressed Yukina a moment later.

"Well," said Kurama into that instant of silence, having found something new to be angry about. "It seems you acted foolishly as well -- spare me the details. Shall I assume you don't find that hypocritical in any way?" He made his eyes piercing, and so very cold.

"I fucking hate you," was the boy's reply, from behind his own brown eyes that raged with incandescent heat. "I hate you for making me even have to come rescue you! I can't believe I trusted you to keep out of trouble -- I should know by now you're only trying to take the retard's way out of your problems like you _always do!"_

"Can you claim to be any different? Or was almost dying to save my life -- as Kuwabara so bluntly put it -- not quite the same thing somehow?"

"I didn't have a fucking _choice!"_ Yuusuke exploded, fists white-knuckled at his sides. "You were practically _begging_ them to kill you, and I wasn't gonna let you get away with it!"

"You know that is not true. I did only what was necessary -- and you overstepped your bounds, and nearly rendered all my efforts a waste."

"Well _excuse_ me for caring enough about you to stop you from dying!"

"You have neither the privilege nor the right to place my life above your own. It is _my_ life. If I choose to give it, you will not hinder me."

Yuusuke went practically white. "Like _hell_ I won't! You're my friend!"

"And you are mine. Do you think that gives you a claim on me?" Kurama's tone cut like icicles. "If so, you are mistaken."

"You stupid bastard! What the hell do you think this _is?_ I'm not trying to control you!"

"You have done so before. You did so before you had known me even a day. I grow tired of your interference in my affairs."

The detective sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily shocked, and recovered with even greater anger. "You want me to stop interfering? I can do that anytime!"

"What, pray, is preventing you?"

"Nothing at all!"

There was a moment as they stared each other down, Kurama with a diamond-cold glare and Yuusuke with his painfully hot fury. And Yuusuke turned his back, and left. The sliding door slammed. There was silence.

Kurama carefully laid himself down against the wall, and let the pain lull him to sleep.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Genkai leaned against the wall outside what was now clearly Kurama's room, watching her protege stalk tensely around the corner, leaving a heat-trail that could have withered bamboo, with his control so badly frayed that he was outlined in the blue shimmers of battle aura. The wake took an exceedingly long moment to dissipate.

Koenma, standing at her side, had eyes bigger than rice bowls and was completely dumb with shock. Kuwabara, barely awake, looked thoroughly torqued off; and the tiny koorime was still visibly upset, and every bit as drawn and tired.

"I'll have to follow him and make sure to catch him when he passes out," the psychic said aloud in heavily sardonic tones. "He doesn't have enough reiki to be wasting it like this -- not that my telling him so would make any difference."

"I tried, but he wouldn't listen," muttered Kuwabara.

"Let me go after him, Genkai-baba." Yukina gave her a pleading glance. "He'll only be angrier if you go, and I'm worried that he'll overstrain himself."

"He's done that already, girlie -- but, all right. I'll take care of Kurama in a little while. He's probably sensible enough to rest before he lets his anger run away with him anymore, so I'll let him get some more sleep. I want to talk to him anyway." The group watched as Yukina hurried down the hallway to overtake the Tantei.

"Are you sure he's gonna be okay?" Kuwabara asked.

"Kurama, or Yuusuke?"

"Kurama. Urameshi punched him at least once, and threw him against the wall. I think he really hurt him."

"He'll survive. Yuusuke didn't have much power to put behind any of that, and now that Kurama's mostly out of the woods, even if he's still bleeding internally he'll be able to handle it for a few hours. I'll need the time to get in healing shape myself." She was departing herself, towards her own rooms. "Make sure Yukina sleeps for the rest of the day once she's finished with Yuusuke, or she'll be sick. You can put her in with Botan -- that girl's still out cold."

They both moved off. As he realized that he was about to be the only one left standing there, Koenma finally overcame his paralysis and managed to splutter out, "Did no one else notice that they just quit _talking_ to each other?"

"Yeah. So?" Genkai had a bad-tempered expression over her shoulder. "We have ears."

"So -- _so?"_ He'd turned an intriguing color. "They're going to blow the entire mission if they won't work together!"

"They'll get over it." She resumed her walk down the hall and was gone through a side door.

The regent turned in mute helplessness to Kuwabara for an explanation, and the boy gave a maddening shrug. "They're smart enough not to let this get in the way of their fighting edge, same as Urameshi and I wouldn't quit being detectives just 'cause we were mad at you. They know things are too dangerous to blow off. And I'd take a side if there was a side to take, but they're both just being stupid." He shot a disgusted look at the closed door behind which Kurama remained, but there was no real fervor in it. "I'm pissed that they were fighting when they're both hurt, and I'm _really_ pissed at Urameshi for hitting Kurama, and I think they're both wrong this time. But I'm just glad they're all right. They might not have been here to yell at each other at all."

His now-melancholy tone calmed Koenma, and he, too, gazed at the door, as if he could see the kitsune within who must still be suffering his wounds in some measure of proud agony. "I see. I hope you're right."

Kuwabara shook his head. "All of this was way too close," he said, his voice unguarded and distressed. "There was no way we could have saved Kurama by the time we got there. And then Urameshi tried to -- and I almost didn't have enough energy to save him, either. If you hadn't come when you did, they'd both be dead now instead of just really mad."

"I know. It may not be a good idea to tell Yuusuke that I saved him as well as Kurama, by the way; he wouldn't want to owe me anything after what I did to all of you."

"As far as I care, you're doing everything you can to make up for lying to us. I'm still mad about it, especially because of Hiei, but at least you admitted you were wrong."

Koenma's eyes slid away to focus on the wall. "That's neither here nor there," he said.

"Well, yeah, but I mean it."

"I appreciate that," was the rueful response. "Can you send Botan to me when she's awake?"

"Sure. You should sleep, too."

"Thanks. I probably will. It's been a while since I've been --" He stopped, a queer and startled expression crossing his features.

"What? Is something wrong?"

The kami shook his head, adopting a disarming smile. "Oh, nothing!" He sweatdropped and put a hand behind his head. "I just had an odd thought. I'll see you in a few hours."

Kuwabara sweatdropped at him, but did not argue this abrupt change of mood. "Okay. See ya."

It was only following Kuwabara's exit that Hiei, who had been silently presiding over everything, glided down to level with Koenma. The latter glared at him sourly.

"So you finally found your way here. I was wondering."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Hiei had been watching the proceedings for some time (having arrived just as the shouting began), paying little heed to the spectacular row between his two teammates and instead observing Kurama's physical state. Why he did this, he was not precisely sure; but he needed to make certain that his senses were portraying the truth. There had been too many dream-memory-visions for him to accept the impossible without verification.

Now he let that odd feeling fill him again in the wake of his half-frantic search -- that softly glowing contentment that he had experienced upon first seeing Kurama again, sleeping in the Makai forest. Pent-up anxieties were already gone, as he had taken comfort in the painful-looking bruises, the torpid reflexes, and the pale complexion. Kurama was, by these signals, indeed alive; this was the resolution of his danger-sense, and the outcome for which he had fervently hoped.

Suffused with this languid emotion, he turned his attention to answering Koenma. "No thanks to your simpering underling," he grumbled, attempting to appear his usual ill-tempered self. "She vanished the moment she dropped me off, and it was only a guess that led me here after that."

"Where did she drop you off?" Koenma blinked. Then -- "Oh. So you were there."

"Yes." And the fear almost returned at the memory. He glared to force it down. "But I don't remember you showing up."

"I don't remember you, either. Were you there before me?"

"If I weren't, I'd probably remember you," Hiei said sarcastically. "I got there just before Yukina did."

"Did you leave?" The god's puzzlement was evident.

"No."

"Then where did you go that I didn't see you?"

"I have no idea."

Koenma made a throwaway gesture. "You had to be somewhere there! Did you do something that might have hidden you?"

Damned nosy kami. "I have," Hiei repeated pointedly, "no idea." He was not about to admit to his unintentional stupidity, and Koenma really didn't need to know anyway. It would only complicate things further, given that he'd lay odds the Reikai would have no idea what could render a spirit unconscious, and neither did he. Extraneous information was best done without.

"Fine, whatever." He looked even more tired now than before. "I suppose you want to know what happened."

"Of course I do, fool."

"Well, to make it short, since I'm very tired, Botan called me on the mirror and told me Kurama was injured. I immediately gave my job the finger, broke six or seven major rules, and pulled both him and Yuusuke back from the brink of death. Makes me sound cool, doesn't it?" His smile was rueful. "I finally managed to do something useful -- for once."

Hiei growled, annoyed at having been told everything he had already gathered, and nothing he hadn't. "What exactly did that moronic fox do to get himself nearly killed?"

The taller figure lost his smile, and gained it back with a new bitterness. "You really should ask Genkai; she had a lot to say about it. But since she can't see you, I guess I'll have to paraphrase." He looked away. "He went seeking the demons out. Genkai thinks he purposely let himself get into an unwinnable situation. Yuusuke wasn't even supposed to show up, according to Botan, so Kurama had to have intended to fight them alone."

And, once again. Hiei positively glowered. "I already knew that. What I want to know is, what did he _do_ that got him injured?"

This got him a more active reaction: an unbelieving stare. "You knew about this?"

"Hn. Of course I knew. Where do you think I was before you captured me?" He snorted. Typical Reikai idiots hadn't bothered to report that part, apparently. "He wanted a chance to surprise them and fight them on his own terms. I," he continued with disgust, "was going to be a message-carrier to Yuusuke with whatever he learned during the battle. _Until_ I was caught."

"You _knew,"_ Koenma repeated himself.

Such irritation was a rare thing, since others usually knew not to pointlessly repeat themselves when speaking to him. "Kurama knew what he was doing," he snapped bluntly. "It was a sound strategy for all that it backfired. I want to know what exactly went wrong with it, so I know what to focus on when I speak to him."

And the prince was silent, just looking at him. It was a sizeable period of mutual glaring before he spoke again. He was lucky; Hiei had just begun to consider throttling him.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Hiei, but none of us know that yet except for the four who were at the fight. I suggest asking Yuusuke once he calms down." His eyes were hooded. "But if you want my opinion, Kurama probably did what he always does, and tried to sacrifice himself for the benefit of the other three. What little I got from Yuusuke's screaming at him corroborates it."

Hiei's eyes narrowed to slits. True, that was one of Kurama's worst tendencies; but he had assured Hiei that he would try to stay alive. Their last preliminary talk, through the rather hostile walls they had established, had included a sketchy strategy for retreat if the plan looked to have irrevocably failed. The unexpected arrival of Yuusuke should have made that easier, not harder. Accidents were often unavoidable, however, and Hiei had assumed that one had occurred -- that was why he wanted to know exactly what it had been, so that planning could compensate and ensure that it would not pose a threat again.

His mind called up the fight he had witnessed, playing it back verbatim for all that he had listened not at all.

_"You were practically _begging _them to kill you, and I wasn't gonna let you get away with it!"_

That did indeed corroborate -- as did Hiei's own experience of the outwardly capricious and yet so-predictable youko.

_So that's why Yuusuke was furious._ And now, suddenly, so was he, as the warm contentment was crushed under realization. Kurama had _broken_ their agreement. If this was true, he had completely ignored his own safety despite his promise to Hiei, and done so deliberately. The one thing for which the Jaganshi had been willing to put himself in danger of eternity in a cell -- and it had been _ignored._

As much as this knowledge abruptly hurt him, he was going to return to Kurama tenfold, and without mercy.

"I'll have the truth," he snarled, curling around that hurt and siphoning it into anger. He was aware from Koenma's slight recoil that his face had turned deadly. "If he really behaved like such a fool, I'll see that he knows it."

"I have no doubt, Hiei." Koenma turned away. "I'm going to bed now. Let me know when you find out, so I can tell Genkai."

Hiei did not deign to answer him.

He phased without a word through the door to Kurama's room, where the redhead was unconscious once more, lying on his side with his back to the wall he had been thrown against, a few drops of blood from his bitten cheek soaking into the tatami.

As before, he looked fragile in his infirmity, maltreated and pitiable, like a broken doll.

And now, unworthy.

Hiei did not know why the hurt would not leave him.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Ayame appeared outside the temple in the early hours of the morning, and delivered her passenger without a word. Thanking her, he knocked on the door, and flared his ki to further announce his presence.

Two hours later, he was still waiting to be let in.

Sitting patiently cross-legged on the wooden walkway, listening to the birds and insects in the trees, Touya raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he had missed something.

* * *

_That seemed much more like an interlude than anything else, but it was certainly an interesting one to write. I expect mixed reactions to the resolution of last chapter's cliffhanger; go ahead, surprise me._

_And review me -- for love, for hatred, for the hell of it._


	13. Sandglass

Part 13:  
Sandglass

_Wow, another chapter that feels interlude-like. My beta told me that it doesn't seem like a filler chapter, since it _does _advance the plot, but there's still that lingering sensation that she's about to poison my tea... Please, comment on how I'm doing. I require your C&C to survive (a modest request, don't you think?)._

* * *

There were cool hands on his face. They were soothing. The dull, heated roil in his chest was receding just a bit -- just enough that he thought he might dare to wake.

But no. There would be pain of a different sort if he did that, and he preferred to remain oblivious a while longer; and to contemplate with amusement that fact that he did not know what that pain would be. That was a conscious knowledge, of which his half-dreaming mind was only half-aware. Existence without depth, and answers without questions . . . and no desire for more.

He recognized this feeling. It happened every time he tried to remember his distant past -- every time his mind failed to supply a name or a face or a scent that he ought to know. It usually distressed him, this null-knowledge; now it was only comforting and warm and sinkingly soft.

But the hands were so gentle, as firmly as they held his cheeks between them -- were they familiar?

"Hiei . . .?"

"I'm afraid not."

And he was awake after all. He opened his eyes.

Genkai was kneeling on the floor next to him, and her hands, limned in soft white energy, were not on his face but rather outstretched, and hovered a foot or so from his chest. Her expression seemed to be balanced between irony and concentration as she focused her healing energies on him.

"Master Genkai," Kurama murmured. "My apologies." His face grew ever so slightly hot.

"No need," she replied.

It was darker in here now. It was also quite uncomfortable to be lying as he was, on his side by the wall, with his actual bedding several feet away and no cushioning to soften the floor. He blinked and found his eyelids sticky with sleep-residue; attempting a slight movement, he found it vastly easier than he had when last conscious. He was able to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear without feeling the muscles of his arm tremble with weariness.

"Stop that," Genkai said. "You've been out for a few hours, and it's going to take me another few minutes at least to patch you up the rest of the way. Hold as still as you can -- you really did a number on yourself."

Indeed. He let the arm drop. It was a welcome relief, waking more fully, to feel the pain ebb steadily as she repaired his internal injuries, slowly so as to conserve her energy but still at a noticeable pace. He felt an abrupt twinge of instinctive alarm -- he couldn't recall the last time someone else had healed him of anything -- he was usually wont to do it himself, using plants to aid him. But he calmed it with the assurance that Genkai could be trusted at least in this, as a former ally, for the moment.

"How long has it been since the fight?" he asked her quietly. His memory of it was returning swiftly, and as he recalled more, he was able to sift out the things that were perplexing him.

"Less than a day," was the immediate answer. "You were brought here at around midnight or so."

He gave over a moment to being nonplused before saying, "That seems a very short interval, given my rate of recovery. I was expecting three days or more." _Yet another oddity. A wound such as mine, mostly healed in under a day? Improbable; even Genkai and Yukina working together should have been hard-pressed to do that in two. Though I suppose it depends on exactly what it is that Yuusuke did -- it nearly cost him his own life, so it was most likely something innovative and drastic._

Genkai made a very Hiei-like sound through her nose. "Not going to ask me directly? I can tell you anything you want to know. In fact, I'd rather I be the one to talk for the moment and not you; it'll only slow things down if you do too much during the last part of the healing, and I can get everything out of the way immediately and take questions afterwards."

Kurama smiled crookedly. "Point, and my apologies once again. Please do."

"Thank you. Do you want the long version, or the short one?"

"Short, please."

"Good, that was my choice as well. Here it is: you were injured, Yuusuke got you out of the fight, Kuwabara and Botan came for Yukina, Botan called Koenma, Kuwabara and Botan and Yukina tried to heal you, Yuusuke was dimwitted, Kuwabara tried to save him, Koenma arrived just in time to save your life and the dimwit's, and they brought you both back here for more healing." She considered. "Touya also arrived this morning. Seems Koenma's been busy recruiting when he's not playing the hero."

He let his eyes go a bit wide, and did not answer, as requested. That (although definitely short) was a lot to assimilate, but the steady relief of his pain was an extensive help, and his mind latched onto one point almost immediately. _Koenma. This is _thoroughly _unexpected._

A surge of anger traversed his chest, which drained some of the expression from his eyes and made Genkai quirk an eyebrow, from whom it would have been impossible to hide the reaction at this range. To have been saved by the prince of Reikai, given all that had passed, would have been among his last choices, shortly behind selecting death. To actually _owe_ him even more than before was not acceptable. Even securing Hiei's disposition following the artifacts incident had not been an easy concession, and he had been the one to request leniency, rather than having no choice in the matter as with now.

Respecting his anger, Genkai did not remark on it. Waiting a full minute while she continued her healing, she said instead, on a tangential subject, "In case you're wondering, Yuusuke tried to give you all of his life energy to keep you alive when it looked like Kuwabara, Yukina and Botan were going to fail. Almost killed all of you -- which is why he's a moron this time around." She scooted out from the wall a bit, giving him room to lie on his back, which he did at her gentle tug on his sleeve. "As for the demon, she didn't follow any of you when you ran away, and Kuwabara, who was the last one to see her, isn't sure where she went. No one was really paying much attention since you were bleeding all over them. Does that cover everything? You can talk now, if you'd like, since I'm mostly done with your ribcage."

"It -- does indeed." Did he have any further questions? His head was already spinning with the information he'd been given, and he supposed not. Except that none of it made _sense --_

Well, that wasn't true. It did make sense; it was merely highly implausible. Especially that Touya, lately of the Dark Tournament Shinobi, had been pressed into service. _What could Koenma possibly have offered him? And why is it this that mystifies me, when I ought to be wondering about Koenma's involvement in my rescue?_

And he found that he had hit upon a question after all. "If I may ask, why did Botan and Kuwabara join in the healing? It's not their expertise, and I would think their help would have been negligible."

"That's right," replied Genkai, "I forgot you didn't know about the ice village." She had lost her smile.

Kurama got just a little cold.

"It was destroyed yesterday morning. Yukina and six other women survived; they're here now. Kuwabara is tending them now that he's slept some."

The cold spread across his throat, and down, as if he had swallowed it. So he _had_ caused more destruction than he had hoped. _And that was why the youkai were at home,_ he knew. _They had just returned empty-handed from the village, and were discussing their plans for later. _And the obvious truth, which he had suspected when he spied on his enemies but not wanted to believe: _I am responsible for the near-extinction of a people -- and there's nothing to stop Gendou and Donari from wreaking more havoc now that I have failed to stop them._

"That was why the other two were helping," the old woman continued over his marked silence. "Yukina had extremely little power left, since they pulled her directly from here after she'd exhausted it all and then only had a few hours' sleep. At that point, every little boost was necessary."

"She's all right?" he inquired automatically.

"Yes. Sleeping now, fortunately."

He loosed a sigh of relief that was not entirely steady. As the tally of his transgressions continued to grow, confirming his friends' safety would go far towards helping him remain resolute. It occurred to him suddenly that he could search them out with his energy now that he was mostly healed -- although weak, he was able to get a faint reading on several of them right away. Yuusuke was dreadfully weak, but uninjured; and Yukina was the same. That odd but slightly familiar ki must be Touya's . . . and that was as far as his senses extended in his current state. But Kuwabara was well enough to be watching over patients, at least, so he could assume the human had been minimally injured.

_At least _they've _remained safe,_ he thought, and felt instantly guilty for it. How could he feel at all relieved, when he considered what he had brought about?

"Thank you for telling me," he said finally. "I will have more questions later; right now I need to think."

Genkai gave a nod. "I'll continue with a few more details while I've got time. Here's one for you -- are you aware that you _were_ dead when Koenma arrived?" she asked him conversationally. "Your heart had stopped, your breathing had ceased, and your youki had all but dissipated. Poor Kuwabara had to choose between keeping your heart going -- he was using ki bolts to do that, by the way -- and saving that idiot Yuusuke; since Botan and Yukina were still trying to work on you, he chose Yuusuke." She shifted her healing pressure to his face for a moment, stopping him from responding. "It was a good thing he did, too, since it wouldn't have made any difference to stay with you. Botan and Yukina were both low on power, but even if they'd been at full strength, your injuries were too severe, and the wait was too long." Her gaze was ironic. "In other words, you were a goner."

"I was aware of that the moment I was hit," Kurama answered as she took her hands from his cheekbones, having repaired many of the bruises that Yuusuke's slaps had inflicted as well as his bitten cheek. "It was . . . startling to wake and discover I had been wrong."

"Trust me, you weren't wrong. You were beyond normal resuscitation, but Koenma's power over souls kept yours in place just long enough to restart your body. It took a good chunk out of his power to repair you enough so that you wouldn't just die again immediately after he stopped -- and after that, he shoved Kuwabara off of Yuusuke and pumped him full of the rest." Genkai gave his arm a push. "Move over and lie on your stomach, I'm almost finished."

He complied. "I see. Yuusuke will not be pleased to learn that." _Not any more than I am._

"That's why we aren't telling him for the moment. As far as he knows, Kuwabara saved him before Koenma got there." Her eyes pierced the back of his skull. "He's upset enough already."

"And will you lecture me, too?" Kurama let his voice acquire just a bit of the chill it had possessed during his last encounter with Yuusuke. "I am perfectly aware that I was clumsy."

" 'Clumsy' isn't the word for it. 'Negligent' is closer, but also inadequate." The words were still light and casual to counterbalance their content. "Why don't we start with 'irresponsible'?"

The fox was very silent for a moment. "I will not discuss this with you."

"Fine." He felt her shrug. "Why don't _you_ start with 'irresponsible', then. You'll have plenty of time to think about it for the next day or so, since you're confined to bed rest as of now and until I say otherwise. While I'm aware that my orders mean nothing to you, if you're half as intelligent as you've always seemed, you'll do what I tell you anyway."

"Yes," he said shortly. "You are a healer, while I am not, and I am beholden to your generous hospitality." His tone was clipped and precise and devoid of emotion.

"Glad to hear it," was her sarcastic rejoinder. She was rising to depart. "If you need anything, tell Yukina; she'll be nearby once she's awake. That means, don't need anything until tomorrow. I'll send Kuwabara in with dinner."

"Hai."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

_Yuusuke was in the torpid midst of what he knew had to be a dream -- in very few other scenarios was Kuwabara clothed in a red jumpsuit and begging him to ride a motorcycle into Genkai's temple. Being aware that this was a dream, and being also fine with that, he went along with it for the most part. He had never yet gotten to ride a motorcycle anyway, so that was kind of nice to experience, although he rather doubted that most bikes had a large blue eye instead of a headlight._

_But he was speeding along well enough, dodging through rooms and around furniture, and when he realized he was heading for a particular room on the east side of the building, he almost didn't have time to stop before he ran into the closed door --_

_And just as he gripped the brakes in white-knuckled hands, bracing for impact, Hiei appeared right in front of him._

_He yelped, and stopped so suddenly that he was catapulted over the handlebars. But he didn't hit Hiei or the door; he landed in the grass beneath a large tree, and it failed to hurt any. He also managed to be suddenly on his feet without actually having to get up. Well, this _was _a dream, so that made sense. So he was outside again -- maybe that meant he would be training or something. But this wasn't the temple grounds anymore, though it was familiar._

_"Pay attention, fool."_

_Oh. Hiei was still there. Would this be another of those dreams where he was running, and Yuusuke was supposed to catch him? He hoped not. He hated those dreams. They made him wake in cold sweat, with a lump in his throat, and he couldn't count the number of times they had happened in the last week or so. Sometimes more than once a night --_

_"Hn. Isn't _this _a waste of time. I ought to have known you'd be an imbecile asleep as well as awake." Hiei was glaring at him as he always used to do, with just the right amount of disgusted vexation. He didn't _look _like he was going to run away this time . . ._

_"Hiei?"_

_"Well don't you deserve a prize," was the acrid response. "Who else would I be?"_

_"Well, no one else, I guess."_

_"Perfect. You've identified me. Good for you."_

_This was feeling less and less like a dream by the minute as he realized Hiei was talking to him. People in dreams usually talked _at _him, and he could understand them but not really hear them. This was different -- and he realized quite suddenly why that must be._

_"You're really _you, _aren't you?" he asked wonderingly, experiencing an array of feelings that he could not untangle. He was pretty sure this was impossible -- but unless he wanted to believe this was another figment, he had to accept it._

_The compact demon had an opaque expression now, having lost his irritation as Yuusuke spoke, and now eyed the Tantei with a lancing stare. "You're more confused than I thought, detective," he said. "Though I'm amused by your feelings towards me. I suppose you're going to get sentimental any minute now."_

_"How do you know what I'm feeling about anything?" Yuusuke asked, taken aback. "I don't even think _I _know."_

_"I'm in your dream, you buffoon," and a bit of bad temper returned to the words, "and you're broadcasting like a beacon. It's pathetic how much control you've lost for simply being asleep."_

_"Hey, don't insult me," said Yuusuke, aggrieved._

_"Then I suggest you tighten your defenses before you deafen me. You don't have the excuse of inexperience for letting your shields drop like this." Hiei pointed at him to emphasize his words. "With what you're going to be facing, you can't afford to let them down for even a moment, and especially not when you're unconscious, or you're going to meet a messy end." He returned the arm to his side, and slipped both hands into his pockets. "But that's not why I'm here."_

_By this time, Yuusuke was feeling aware enough for the first stirrings of anger to wake, and he did not respond, waiting for his visitor to continue. It finally felt like a real encounter; and he finally recognized his surroundings. This was the clearing in the park where he usually did his training, when he didn't do it at the temple. Usually the world didn't fade out into rosy fog fifty feet from the center, but he was certain enough of the location for it to affect him in a number of ways. None of them were pleasant -- not when he recalled what Koenma had told him about Hiei's suicide._

_Hiei, apparently expecting him to speak, twitched an eyebrow and continued, "I'm here to tell you that Kurama is to be left alone. You've made your point, and if he doesn't figure it out from that, I'll make it clear to him." The youkai grimaced then. "You're nearly as addled as he is, you know. Neither of you has the ability to think properly, an ability you'll be needing soon enough, and until you've regained it, you'll only complicate matters by speaking to each other."_

_Oh, that was a bad subject for him to have brought up. Yuusuke's anger found a new depth, and a new focus -- where the _hell _did Hiei get off telling him what to do, after what he had done? Fresh emotional wounds, newly-exposed from his fight with Kurama (stupid, stupid bastard, trying to get himself killed just like Hiei), bolstered his rage back to its previous height, and he gritted his teeth against an unintended response that he was certain would border on cruelty._

_"Shut up!" was all his mind would substitute._

_The Jaganshi flinched back, squinting as if in a bright light. "What did I tell you about your shields, fool?" he snapped. "You're probably visible to every youkai within ten miles who has a shred of telepathy, and your allies with you!"_

_And that was all he needed to throw aside all prohibitions against that cruelty. "It hasn't exactly been a walk in the park for any of us since you offed yourself," Yuusuke yelled angrily, "so stop getting all superior about my self-control!"_

_He evidently managed to surprise Hiei with this; the crimson eyes widened for a fraction of a second before Hiei's expression cloaked itself behind indifference. "Hn. I should have expected this. Well, do you have anything else to say to me before we return to our real business?"_

_"How the hell could you let us all down like that?" Yuusuke barely let him finish speaking before beginning a tirade that was long overdue, and one he had thought he'd never have the chance to release. As with his confrontation with Kurama, he knew that if he didn't shout, he would cry -- and he didn't know if he'd be able to stop once he started. "I'm your friend, and you couldn't even tell me there was something wrong! You weren't around enough for me to even _guess!"

_"Did that energy dump take your brains along with it?" the youkai said disgustedly. "That _was _the whole point. If I'd wanted you to know, I'd have shown up at your door with a sign." He rolled his eyes expressively. _"Ningen."

_Yuusuke saw red. "You son of a bitch, you're just like Kurama is -- too selfish to give a damn about the rest of us! You probably planned it even before Kurama left, didn't you? And I thought we trusted each other!"_

_Hiei was very suddenly, very angry. "Do not insult me like that again, detective! I'm not a spineless human weakling, to take my own life on a whim!"_

_"Well you're a spineless something, 'cause that's what you _did!"

_"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Hiei snarled. "I did nothing of the sort!"_

"Then why the hell would you do that?!"

_"If you must know, it wasn't entirely intentional!"_

_Yuusuke stiffened all the way from his heels to the nape of his neck, and he stared at Hiei, words completely lost to him in shock. He couldn't even _think. _His mind stuttered, producing only half-articulated fragments that in no way even resembled coherent thoughts. His emotions, on the other hand, were in a frenzied flux that he had no trouble interpreting -- his anger had flipped upside-down in an instant, and been joined by guilt, bitterness, and the now-familiar pain he was coming realize would never leave him._

_That had never occurred to him as even a _possibility. _He had always assumed Hiei had been too close to Kurama, and had chosen to die rather than continue without him. It had even made sense -- on probation as was, Hiei had been forbidden from straying too far into the Makai, and been all but confined to the Ningenkai when not on assignment, so Kurama had been his only close friend. Yuusuke knew that without _his _friends -- had he lost the last person about whom he cared -- but that _wasn't _what had happened._

_His furious anguish was abruptly free-floating, robbed it of its focus, a morass of emotion that threatened to crush him underneath it._

_Hiei, having also lost his brief hold on anger, now looked as sour as though he'd bitten a lemon. "Are we through with this subject now, or do I have to go into detail?"_

_"I --" Yuusuke swallowed. "I didn't know that."_

_"Of course you didn't. Don't be an idiot." Hiei eyed him. "I have several more things to say. I trust you're in the mood to listen to them now?"_

_All he could do was nod._

_"Then I won't waste time. Understand: Kurama is a fool, but he didn't become one without reason. It will be necessary for you to keep him focused until the danger has passed."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_Hiei sighed, irked. "You, detective Yuusuke Urameshi, are a singularly dense individual who ought to have given up trying to understand youkai a long time ago. I can see I'll have to spell it out for you."_

_"Hey," Yuusuke warned. "Lay off. It's not your business."_

_"He told his mother the truth, you know. She sent him away."_

_Yuusuke lost his breath for a moment. "She what?"_

_Hiei glared at him. "I shouldn't have to repeat myself. She sent him away, and told him he was not her son. He has no place in your world now."_

Oh, _was all the boy's mind could generate. _Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.

_Kurama cared for very little else as he cared for his mother. He had been willing to die for her the day Yuusuke had met him, and several times after that. It was only because of his mother that he had learned how to be human, and how to truly care for someone else._

_And now Kurama was alone: he was dead as far as anyone in the Ningenkai was aware, and the Reikai was closed to him unless he came back as a Tantei, which left even Botan out of his reach. He couldn't very well live as Hiei had lived, hiding in trees by day, skulking atop buildings and down alleys by night. Even if he stayed with Yuusuke, he'd never be able to leave the residence, to avoid questions about his merely being alive._

_He no longer had a home in the Ningenkai, and would not have one again._

_It was so painfully clear, so huge and bright and obvious, that he couldn't believe he hadn't managed to figure it out on his own. He had accused Kurama of not caring whether he lived or died, but he had never realized how close to the truth he had come._

_"Are you getting the picture now, detective? You ningen are so slow, I never can tell."_

_Oh, indeed, he got the picture. He had worked it out in his head a long time ago, the first time he had wondered what might happen when Kurama told his mother the truth about his past. He had worked it all out -- but it was now that another thought became clear: _He never meant to tell her. Ever. This whole thing forced him to, and now he's lost her because of it.

I am going to kill Koenma. And I am going to do it slowly.

_"Good. I see you are. I'm here because you're not going to see me again; I required of Koenma the opportunity to combat your idiocy one final time. Don't expect me back, and if you're going to hate the toddler, pick another reason -- he had nothing to do with it. Try to keep Kurama from risking his fool neck again, and keep the oaf away from my sister. Have a nice life."_

_Hiei was making as if to go, and Yuusuke broke out into a wordless, spluttering protest that made him turn, looking supremely irritated. "What is it now? I don't have time for a tearful goodbye, you know."_

_"But -- where are you going?" was all Yuusuke could manage._

_"How should I know? Not all of us botch dying so badly that we get sent back. I'm going where I'm going, and I don't really care where it is."_

_Yuusuke nodded tightly, aware that another few seconds would bring tears to the surface. "I hope where you end up doesn't piss you off too much."_

_"Hn. Indeed."_

_Hiei's eyes, curiously limpid and full of an emotion Yuusuke had never seen before and could not understand, were the last he saw of the dream as it petered out into formless nothing, and he was awake._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Filthy, blood-spattered and half-blinded by a blow to the head, she lay very still, unwilling even to test whether she was able to rise again. She could smell her own blood in the dirt under her claws, and the dead around her as well for yards. She could smell none still living, in fact -- but she had not expected to.

But she did smell the attackers; heard them speaking, and was able to brace herself for impact as they drew close. With her whiskers mostly burned away, she couldn't tell how far away they were exactly, but it didn't matter. They would kill her easily enough from any distance. That they were approaching only meant they would take more pleasure in it.

She was lifted from the ground. She saw spots, then flashes of light, and then the dust-filmed ruins of her village -- and the woman that held her by her tattered shirt, with those cold silver eyes beneath sea-green hair. And the demoness was speaking.

"This one is still alive. You may have her. She is all you will receive, until you have redeemed yourself sufficiently; I suggest you guard her well."

"I will," rumbled the rocky voice of the second demon, just out of sight to one side. "Heal her for me?"

"Indeed. She'd hardly be of any use otherwise."

Vitality was coursing back into her body, accompanied by a strange violet glow, tinged with gold. Her head cleared, her aches dissipated, and her abrasions sealed themselves, all within no more than three breaths. And, still immobile and suspended in the air, she was thrust to one side, and dumped on her tail.

Looking up without meaning to, she had her first clear look at the person who was to "receive" her.

The yellowish monster grinned at her. "You'll do."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Sitting alone in the room allotted him, Koenma nursed a cup of tea far past warmth, letting his thoughts run rampant and gloomy and uncomprehended until they passed from him in due time. He didn't care. It was comforting, to let his mind empty of all that had happened in the last day, and spend some time in reflections of a deeper sort.

As long as he was going to be alone, he might as well search for a way to live with his only company.

It was difficult. He had never been one to over-analyze. Things were seldom other than they appeared to be -- at least in his life and work, where everyone appeared in vulnerability and loss and looked to him to give them what future they deserved. He carefully pulled strings, always to an intended effect, and very little was unanticipated or could not be accounted for by one of his myriad backup contingencies. Not since he had created the Orb, six centuries ago, had circumstances been completely out of his control.

Until Yuusuke.

He had not had a team for several decades -- had managed demon mischief with the odd agent on call. His recruitment of the temerarious young boy had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, actuated by some inner planning circuit that instinctively knew he would be necessary. This was a predictable cycle, in fact; oftentimes there would be a staccato splurge of disasters over several months, requiring a dreadfully talented squad to squash events into complacency. Following that, there would be years upon years of nothing at all. Petty demons and petty crimes and no need for outside help. And without fail, he would always have someone on hand when he needed that outside help once again -- if not from Japan, then from whatever country managed to produce an adequate candidate. Most of the decent prospects happened to be Japanese, for reasons that were not clear to him.

Sure enough, Yuusuke's appointment had directly preceeded the theft of some negligently guarded and extraordinarily insidious (and priceless) items from his very own vault. And thus the other members had entered his employ, and he'd been rewarded with the full team he hadn't had for so very long.

Then had come the Four Beasts of Youma fiasco (the team's first joint venture), the discovery of Yukina's kidnapping, the subsequent threat from the Toguro brothers, and the mad plan of a mad gambler that had died when his last bet failed to pan out. After that, he had begun to suspect that the rash of pending catastrophes was over, as months had gone by with only minor youkai needing to be captured for wreaking minor annoyance.

Now the most dire threat of any had come to challenge him in his state of complacency -- and it was, in an irony that had not escaped his awareness, something that his team had immediately failed to handle for all their strength and skill. Not that it had been their fault. As had been so clearly pointed out to him, they could have easily managed it had he given them the opportunity to understand fully from the beginning. Everything that had taken place, had done so at his own fumbling pull of strings he had once controlled with ease.

If he had yet damaged circumstances beyond repair, this would not be the first time he had lost a team. They seldom stayed around once the boredom set in, and their own lives became more interesting and important than their negligible service; like a corps in peacetime, they demanded their leave. He seldom had the heart to call them back -- had rarely found it necessary, as new talents were perpetually crossing his desk. Someone was always willing, although often for a price, to perform whatever dangerous task would bail the world out for another few years or so. This would be the same, which ought to be (but miserably failed as) a comfort.

He was very familiar with this process, and learning from hard experience, he had always carefully avoided becoming attached to any particular individuals, so that by now he could recall no names any longer from among the formless morass of temporary employees. Yuusuke had begun the same way. He had watched with a near-callous indifference as the inexperienced detective had been nearly killed by Suzaku, and his only thought had been for the mission, as was appropriate for one in his position. When that attitude had changed was a mystery to him. At some point during the Tournament was his best guess.

Perhaps it had been the grief Yuusuke had displayed at Genkai's murder, or his resiliency in the face of overwhelming defeat, that had changed him from a useful, powerful tool into a real _person._ Or -- perhaps it was that he was so much like Sachi had been.

Sachi, who had been Koenma's first Tantei, and his first mistake.

This team was nearly a mirror of that one, albeit with one additional member, as well as Botan assisting now and again (a brilliant idea, that; it made for more versatile manipulation of events). Kurama was the gentle but occasionally ruthless Yamato; Hiei, the abrasive and domineering Noboro. Kuwabara filled a supporting role that failed to overshadow the similarities, especially given that the same agent of circumstance which had broken apart that team of long ago -- catalyzed by his own actions -- promised to destroy this one in like manner. The past echoed forward and broke down his painstaking defenses even now, and he had taken no time at all to revert and become the inept and naive kami who had first taken charge of the Reikai at barely a century old.

_History really _does _repeat itself. And I thought that was just an expression._

But he had no excuse -- none whatsoever -- to have let this happen. He was no longer that young; he was nearly eight hundred, with enough administrative experience to have not only foreseen these circumstances, but steered clear of them like plague. It would have been _easy._ Just a trifle of clear thought, attention to the minutia, and the retention of his ability to trust -- which he knew he still possessed at odd moments.

"Hn. Not likely."

The acrid comment caught him off-guard, and he lifted his head from his supporting hands, looking back over his shoulder to behold Hiei perched on thin air not two feet behind his head.

He was _not_ up to countering the hi youkai's acerbity at the moment. He turned back to the wall scroll he'd been staring through. "Been to see Yuusuke yet?" he inquired. Maybe if he got that subject out of the way quickly, Hiei would depart.

"Yes. The detective had very little to say. Hn," Hiei snorted, "very little of any intelligence, anyway."

"And Kurama?"

"Not yet."

_Good,_ Koenma thought with marked relief. _This will be short._ "Then he didn't try to get himself killed?"

"He did. He'll be dealt with."

_Even better._ "All right, then. I'll tell Genkai, and she'll get the full story out of Yuusuke later. Now can you leave me alone?" _Please, please leave me alone. I'd rather keep _my _thoughts to myself._

"Not quite yet. I have a few questions myself."

"What you have, is a flagrant disregard for my mental privacy. I'll thank you to reign in your telepathy in my presence." That ought to be pithy enough that Hiei would appreciate the point.

A silence. "Hn. You sound like Kurama. Very well, then. What do you intend to do about this situation?"

So he wasn't going to go away. Koenma might as well answer him. "I'm not really sure. It depends on what my resources are, and whether or not they'll function as expected. Your Jagan, for instance," and his tone became penetrating, "has the potential to be a very interesting resource." He turned to face Hiei again. "Do you have any idea why it's active?"

Hiei appeared nettled, and looked away briefly. "I don't know, and I don't care."

"Haven't you wondered, though?" Koenma persisted. "It's an absolutely unique phenomenon, you know. It's been letting you know when your teammates are in danger, which has been letting _me_ know, incidentally."

"It's been doing nothing of the sort," Hiei snapped. "I haven't felt a twinge out of it about those ningen idiots."

"So it's just been Kurama, then?" _Intriguing. Oh, wait. _"And Yukina?"

A dreadfully sour look crossed the Jaganshi's features, making him look almost petulant. "I don't see as it's really your concern."

"Of course it is," Koenma snapped. "You're under my jurisdiction, for all that I've managed to bungle your sentencing more than once already. It's my job to find out what's making impossible things possible."

"You never answered my question," Hiei said angrily, diverting the subject. His arms were crossed over his chest, his chin tucked under just a trifle.

"I've answered it as well as you have any right to expect. Now leave me alone if you're not feeling cooperative."

"Hn. Fine then." Hiei kicked off the the air and shot through the wall without further speech. Koenma imagined he saw a little smoke-trail remaining to mark his passage.

Sighing a resonant sigh, the ex-ruler of Reikai let his posture droop, making his neck realize that he'd stiffened it into soreness and demand to be stretched. He complied, irritated in the extreme. He knew he was the only one to whom Hiei could speak directly, but that didn't make it any more enjoyable to be ambushed with terse conversations, with someone he did not like and who reciprocated in kind. Koenma would be excessively glad to get this situation resolved, and Hiei's disposition decided. With that pleasant future firmly in mind, he deliberately returned to thinking, with one corner of his senses now looking out for any more meddling sanjiyans with unexplained telepathy.

But it nagged at him -- how _had_ that happened? This would indeed require some thought, and he set aside his brooding to address it. Things like that were obviously impossible, but just as obviously, Hiei had managed it. While he was used to his Tantei surprising him, as most of those he recruited for the job were mavericks or misfits, he was growing rather tired of having to puzzle out the intricacies of situations that the Tantei themselves had no interest in solving. Kurama would have loved this conundrum, but he would have been the only one. Everyone else operated under the rather base philosophy of "It works, so who cares how?"

He laid out his information in a neat mental line. The Jagan eye itself gave Hiei several abilities, his telepathy among them, and had its own limited awareness; it had been implanted relatively recently, around a year and a half ago; he had employed it in various inventive and unorthodox ways, such as binding the Kokuryuha to himself; he had used its capabilities seldom except at need, and his only major undertakings with its help had been finding his sister, the Kokuryuha, and a spate of scouting missions a few months back.

That covered the basics. The specifics were: it had first glowed when Hiei was unresponsive in his cell, and again (a different color) when he had woken; it had apparently told him that Kurama was in danger not once but _twice,_ and that Yukina had been in trouble as well; it appeared to have limited telepathic abilities remaining; it allowed him to somehow control fire despite having no physical youki.

That was a pile of facts that seemed to have very little cohesion. Impossibility upon impossibility, all stacking atop the single fact of that Jagan being _active._ It couldn't possibly be sustaining itself, so where was it getting its power? And why was it telling him things about Kurama and Yukina when they couldn't be connected in any way to --

_Oh._

Sudden understanding made Koenma's neck rigid again, sending the pain of a pinched nerve down the length of his spine. It made so much sense -- was so very appallingly logical -- that he was all but stunned, his mind unfolding deductions at a speed that made his temples ache.

The Jagan wasn't sustaining itself. It was linked to Yukina and Kurama, and _they_ were powering the thing without even being aware of it -- that was why it was alerting Hiei when they were in trouble. Since they were the only two with which Hiei had shared his telepathy more than passingly, it had apparently established permanent ties to them without anyone being aware of it. And since its primitive consciousness must somehow have fused with Hiei's soul (he'd work out _that_ one later), it had managed to keep his telepathic connections active even without his body.

That was the only way -- absolutely the only way -- to account for it. He felt stupid for not having put it together before; when it couldn't be powering itself, it had to be powered by outside sources. Telepathy was complicated and largely misunderstood, and should therefore have been his first area of exploration when more mundane things failed to explain the problem.

He chewed his lip. Did Kurama and Yukina realize their power was being siphoned off? Or was the drain so negligible that even Kurama had been unaware? Of course -- if he knew, he'd have done something about it (and for that matter, so would Hiei). There were two of them linked to the Jagan, so it was entirely possible that they felt no loss of energy whatsoever.

And, Koenma further realized, that strange linkage accounted for a great many otherwise inexplicable things.

Hiei's bizarre behavior, for instance, both before and after his death. This was a much better explanation for his suicide than the theory that he had merely failed to cope. It seemed everyone had done Hiei a disservice by assuming that, especially taking into account that he had spent his entire life doing nothing _but_ cope with abandonment and loss and ought to have been pretty damned good at it.

What _had_ happened was dreadfully simple: the Jagan had been aware that Kurama was alive, but Hiei had been told he was not. Koenma had planned that encounter well, he recalled with new depths of guilt; the news had come from Hiei's own teammates, whom he trusted as much as he trusted anyone, and been reinforced by the ruthless and well-timed application of logical-sounding circumstantial evidence. Hiei would otherwise have demanded proof, and gone out to find it when it was not provided, but the lie had been executed well enough to bypass his natural suspicion. The internal conflict was not hard to imagine, given that: the conscious knowledge with its basis in logic, and the instinctive knowledge with roots in emotion and telepathy.

After all the training through which he had put himself to ensure that his analytical nature alone was of import, the Jaganshi had been completely unable to listen to the empathic message, and yet it was part of his mind on an unconscious level and therefore could not be ignored. Hiei hadn't been born with that Jagan, or he might have been able to comprehend what it had been telling him -- but implants like that were tricky, and almost impossible to understand or control completely. The push-pull must have been driving him stark mad for _weeks._ His already obsessive nature would have turned the feedback into a mental loop that had rendered it virtually impossible for him to think of anything else besides Kurama (in some form) for more than a few minutes at a time, as the Jagan relentlessly tried to convince him he was mistaken.

Add that to the fact that Kurama and Hiei had been, for youkai at least, extremely close; and his marked tendency towards emotional denial -- under that sort of duress, Koenma himself would have been driven to something drastic in considerably less time than three weeks. The level of sheer mental discipline it must have taken to hold out that long was staggering to contemplate.

The sanjiyan's temporary mental breakdown in lockup also made sense now. The sudden resolution of that conflict had amplified his emotions -- hence his initial shock-reaction -- and then yanked him _into_ the link, as his conscious mind surrendered the pressure, like deliberately losing a tug of war. That explained why he had managed to withdraw into himself like that (souls were not given to that sort of thing in the least), and why his Jagan had been glowing -- blue, was it? -- at the time. And he had come out of the trance, stable again, with the certainty that Kurama was not only alive, but in danger. A better understanding of the link after having been immersed in it, perhaps? Hence his further certainty of Yukina's peril, coinciding with the village massacre, though Koenma hadn't known she'd been there, and of Kurama's.

And the fire -- mustn't forget the fire. That one was harder to figure out . . . but there were a few things that might account for it. If the Jagan was pulling power from outside sources to keep itself active, it might be pulling extra energy and making it available for Hiei's direct use. Either that, or it had enough by-product energy from simply being awake that the relatively simple manipulation of fire was possible to sustain. Not that Hiei probably had any inkling where that power was coming from, nor was it likely that he cared as long as it didn't dry up when he was using it.

Koenma was positively dizzy. It seemed _everything_ had an explanation. He hardly even noticed that he had nibbled most of the way through his lower lip as he realized he really _had_ gotten Hiei killed, in a much more direct way than he (and everyone else) had thought. The youkai failing to cope would have been an unfortunate happenstance that Koenma had not foreseen, but it appeared that the single lie he'd told had had drastically far-reaching effects. That he had been equally ignorant of the telepathic link made little difference.

He was quite, quite confident that he was not going to tell Hiei any of this. But he was equally certain that Kurama deserved to know. Koenma got up, and left the room.

He was intercepted.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

After Genkai was gone, Kurama breathed in deeply, relinquishing his carefully-controlled emotions in several long exhalations. Here was the pain he had expected, and indeed of several differing kinds. Anger and remorse mixed to hurt fully as much as any mortal wound -- of which he had experienced two, and so he ought to know.

Well, he was youko. As such, there was no reason he had to accept this feeling meekly. There were few things that he could not suppress if he chose, given enough time, though the last week's dangers had precluded the attempt. He felt immensely better after that healing session, reducing the distractions that might impede his relaxation technique -- draining off his negative emotions, leaving his mind free for unimpeded thought, required a certain level of concentration. He would use his time best in lucid planning, with not a moment wasted.

Deep breathing, the loosening of every muscle in succession, and the reduction of his ki output to a steady, low-frequency wave left his emotions floating free, easily managed for as long as he chose to remain tranced. This was something he dared try only when assured of utter safety -- and the temple was as close as he would get for a while. When he had nothing left to obturate him, he lined up his thoughts and began to strike them down like targets.

Point one: he was alive. He was mostly healed, even. Outliving one's plans was never a good thing, which led into point two: he needed to rapidly restructure his assumptions to allow for this new situation. This might be accomplished by the subsequent points.

Point three: Yuusuke had dropped from the status of 'friend' to 'tentative ally'. That was something of which to be very aware when he set up his new strategy. Adjunct to this were the statuses of his other compatriots -- unknown (Botan), and probably all right (Kuwabara). Touya was an interesting unknown quantity, and Koenma an unexpected and intriguing addition. Yukina was to be discounted; she would be ill equipped for anything besides healing, and not on the battlefield. As a backup medic, however, she would prove invaluable -- as would Touya in a pinch. Freezing a wound would go far towards slowing bleeding and preventing maximum trauma to the area of impact. Koenma's capabilities had not been disclosed, although they appeared to include some unique power over souls, a fact that was not, in retrospect, any surprise at all. If things took a turn for the worst, he might be talked into a rescue similar to the one he had performed to revive Kurama himself.

All of this was pivotal only light of point four: Donari and Gendou were still alive and powerful, albeit separated. They would still need to be dealt with -- hence his cataloging of his allies. His assets were they, and his plants. He ought to have another of those ferns in seed, or something enough like them to reasonably be attributed the same effect. He could try a combination, to account for all the possible chemicals that could have caused the reaction; this would bear some careful sorting.

Tactics would be crucial now that the enemy knew his strengths and weaknesses as well as he knew theirs. Yuusuke's power, Kuwabara's unpredictability, and Kurama's own cunning would need to be blended in a studied configuration, quite unlike the haphazard battle that had landed him here, if they wanted any favorable odds at winning. Touya's finesse would help to a fair degree as well. As would Genkai, in several capacities -- but she would be unlikely to join the fight itself, which was probably wise of her, since she was the primary healer.

But this was not something he could work out alone. Clever as he liked to imagine he was, he could not account for everything without input; he would need other viewpoints to cover his ineluctable blind spots. Aware of this, he set his half-developed plans aside until such time as he could call together the rest of them for talk.

Point five: was there a point five? He supposed that it was probably a review of his own motivations, insofar as both Yuusuke and Genkai (in vasty differing ways) had asked him to think on them.

As angry as he was, and as certain of his position, he would be remiss not to give Yuusuke's accusations at least some consideration. They seemed to boil down to one concept: that Kurama had been intentionally attempting to bring about his own death.

His mind trod the paths of implication simply out of habit. _What,_ it surmised, _if I am wrong, and Yuusuke is right? Have I been seeking death, and denying it even to myself?_

It was a troubling notion; true, although, that he had felt obligated to give his life in payment of his debt to Hiei, even as he still owed it also to Yuusuke. A life demanded a life in trade, and no less. It was only because Yuusuke had clearly wanted him to live that he had striven for survival. Even that had slipped several times during the Tournament, as necessity blended with obligation had overruled his friend's desire. This did not mean that he had necessarily been driven by it on an subconscious level, however -- it was very much a deliberate moral code, one that he had developed over more than ten years, as his human identity had begun to submerge the youko in him.

Few things had carried through. Honor had remained, in its own twisted way, and a certain ruthlessness that fueled most of his battle-oriented ethics, but until becoming human he had never incorporated or possessed the qualities of mercy, guilt or compassion.

He had also never felt self-hatred.

Kurama had known of this quality within himself since his fight with Touya (though he had suspected it ever since the Mirror of Darkness had nearly taken him), as he watched the idealistic demon struggle for what mattered more to him than his own life -- an ideal, the light that Kurama had stolen for himself in his desperation to survive, and that had given him a truer insight into what he was than a thousand years of life in the Makai. He had wondered then if he could ever atone for the violent and cruel nature of his being, and if that nature would even allow him to try.

Upon reflection, he recognized that emotion as one of the many he had been feeling over the last three days. He had good enough reason. He had, by obeying orders that had served to protect only him, failed to protect Hiei from himself. His mother had despised him as he knew she must once she saw him for what he was -- he could have left her with memories of a smiling, polite, studious son, but he had not even afforded her that. He had entered his home hoping to spare himself, not her, and and now she suffered the more, and the more needlessly. Yuusuke and Kuwabara, and everyone in the worlds, had been endangered by his rash actions in fleeing his mission. Yukina had even lost almost her entire people as a result of his decisions.

These things clearly required his blood in payment many times over. But had he truly _wished_ for death?

What had he wanted, these last days? On the surface, survival had occupied a central role in his thoughts, but there had been much below that layer that could have affected his actions. He had wanted his mother back. He had wanted Hiei back. He had wanted, he was aware in a wry way, to punish himself for losing them, given that he was responsible. In the absence of consummation of the first two desires, the third had probably taken precedence. But in the sense that he had sought to punish himself, that was much better served by remaining alive to suffer the results of his actions. There had been the promise he had made to Hiei, which had also obviated the path of self-destruction.

However, all of that assumed that he had been thinking rationally of the future. He candidly admitted to himself that he had had nebulous plans at best for whatever might come following the neutralization of the demon threat -- partially because there was little planning that _could_ be done, and partially because he hadn't really thought he would survive. He had devised his strategy according to the odds he had calculated, and being aware that he might not survive was not the same as _planning_ not to.

This did not change the plain fact that he had failed to choose a direction for his future, however, beyond disavowing any ties to humanity, which really didn't count. So in that future, and his perception of it, was where the error lay, if such there was. It was the only unexplored byway that his logic had not touched. So what had he wanted for the future?

He surveyed the spread of his emotions. He had wanted -- finality. He had wanted an _end._ He had thought that end was his resumption of his old life, but as he had looked into his future, devoid of family, friends and purpose, seeing only a return to the past and the identity he loathed --

It was there that the emotions became twisted upon themselves. Thwarted longing became self-loathing became painful denial became -- apathy.

The realization of its existence was abrupt and unsoftened. Apathy -- he had not recognized it before. Such an insidious feeling, to have crept up on him unaware, and to have undermined everything he had thought he was seeking. It suddenly made too much sense; only indifference could have swayed his rationality, guiding him from beneath his conscious control by robbing him of the drive necessary for survival.

And apathy, mixed with his desire for an ending to his pain and the breakdown of his ability to reason, would have meant only one thing.

Yuusuke was right.

As he tasted the thought in his mind, backed by logic and devoid of the defensive anger that had blocked him before, it seemed less now like an unjust accusation, and more as if the detective's off-and-on uncanny perception had been at full operancy. It seemed his judgment had indeed been clouded, and all his careful, rational planning must be called into question under this new light. It was almost an insult, to be less aware of his own motives than Yuusuke -- but only if he were feeling particularly elitist, which he was not any longer.

His arrogant pride had certainly played a factor in the words they had exchanged, however. It was highly likely that Yuusuke would not speak to him for days -- or longer. He doubted he was worthy of being forgiven, after twisting Yuusuke's selfless actions when Kurama had tried to use the Mirror of Darkness and turning that defining moment of friendship into a spiteful weapon. That gift, which had meant so much to him as well; and he had thrown it in Yuusuke's face.

After a moment of pure guilt, enough to disrupt his trance and pull him to full consciousness once more, his mind found one redeeming fact: Yuusuke had done precisely what he had yelled at Kurama for, and must at least admit to that. Whether his stubbornness would allow it was another matter; but the kitsune had not been wholly in the wrong.

But he had been wrong enough. If he truly wished to die, there were kinder and less dishonest ways of going about it that would cause a minimum of trouble for everyone concerned. He had enough control over his body and ki to simply will it -- a painless and sure death. Even if someone tried to stop him, there was no way to keep him alive if he did not want to remain so.

Or there was always the route Hiei had chosen. A single razor-leaf, while his body was still weakened from the blood he had already lost --

He felt a jab of remorse in his throat. He had thought so little of Hiei since he had woken. Where was the Jaganshi now? In Reikai prison, awaiting sentencing for his transgressions? Gone forever to another plane of existence? With Hiei, too, his last words exchanged had been harsh, and that was a wrong for which there could be no reparation. Now that Hiei had visited his dreams for the last time, Kurama would never speak with him again.

And the hurt had returned -- the hot ache in his chest, so different from his physical wounds, that reminded him of Hiei's presence and yet spoke of his abandonment all the more sharply. Hiei would have been furious with him even as Yuusuke was, but he would have showed it with a frigid disdain that struck deeper than anger. Kurama's actions -- and more, his denial of them -- were cowardice of the first order, and it did not matter that the Jaganshi himself had succumbed to the same despair. Hiei would have lost respect for him; and that alone was enough for tears to threaten.

He had worked hard for Hiei's respect. There were so few to whom the Jaganshi granted that honor, and his specifications were exacting in the extreme. That Kurama had continued to meet them even though he obviously had human foibles had been surprising and ultimately gratifying in a way that he was not sure he understood, but that he valued very highly. And despite his ties to humanity, he was so very like Hiei. Their backgrounds were different enough, but had led them to nearly the same place; the only reason that Kurama had become as different as he now found himself was his life in the Ningenkai. Without that experience, he would have remained as Hiei had: ruthless, cold, and haughty in his loneliness.

The silences they had shared, comfortably and without feeling a need for talk; Hiei's quick anger and quicker wit, so perfectly counterpointing Kurama's subtler nature; the unspoken understanding that let them both know where they stood -- with no one else had he shared so much. He felt hollow, and contemptible.

He let the epiphany -- for it was one -- reach its zenith. He was so self-centered that it appalled him, lying here in contemplation of how best to end his life when so many others had given so much to keep him alive. He _did_ owe them his life -- and he had been trying his level best to make their sacrifices a waste. He had let his most irrational urges drive him, cloaking them in rationalization and false reason, and lashing out at anyone who tried to tell him he was wrong, like the prideful bastard he hated to be. And the self-pity was the worst of it.

It was one thing upon which the demon and the human in him agreed. Self-pity was inexcusable.

And for once, he could think of nothing -- nothing, for all his cleverness and cunning -- that might restore what he had thrown away.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Koenma, sir."

"Yes, what is it?"

"I have a report you may wish to hear."

"Go ahead, I've got time."

"Upon returning to the Reikai this morning, I was informed that there has been a large number of Makai souls cycling through the system, which the staff has been having trouble processing; I spent some time in damage control. According to the regular scouting reports, it is probable that the rogue demons are responsible."

"I see. I was hoping to have more time before they attacked again."

"Do you have any instructions, sir?"

"I'd like you to manage the souls as well as you can, and I'll send Botan back to help you as soon as I can spare her."

"I presume you wish me to mobilize the secondary defense force."

"No. Leave them inactive, and I'll figure out my own solution to this problem; I'll be in enough trouble with my father once he hears about all of this."

"I wouldn't know anything about that, sir."

"Of course not. Do you know which sector of Makai these souls are coming from?"

"West to northwest. Three settlements have been confirmed as destroyed, and four scouts have failed to report in and been assumed as casualties. Backups were sent."

"Pull them back. There's no sense in risking more people -- I'm aware of what's going on, more or less, and they aren't necessary. Keep airborne scouts in place for visual recording if you can reasonably assure their safety."

"Is that all?"

"Keep me informed. Beyond that, tell the senior clerks that I'm delegating administrative decisions to them. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

_Next chapter will return to action, and the story will finally come together for the climax. I've only got a couple more chapters planned, folks; I'm actually, truly, almost done with this story. I credit all of you for your support, and such. (munches on cookies)_

_Also Touya will get to do more. There just wasn't any good place for him in this chapter, even though it's been two chapters since he was introduced into the story._

_Credit goes to the redoubtable Blossomwitch for a reference made in the first scene -- I adopted her fanfic, 'Define Mercy', as canon for the purposes of my own fanfiction, and will continue to reference it as such. Go check her out -- you are commanded!_

_Don't get mad at me if the next chapter takes forever and a day to finish, since the pacing has to be _perfect _or the dramatic tension won't carry through. In case you're wondering, Chapter 11, the only chapter that compares in terms of said dramatic tension, took bloody _months _to do right -- I was working on it continually at the same time as I was finishing Chapters 8 and 9. So since I don't have the same jumpstart here, you'll probably have to wait. Eh, sorry about that._


	14. Only Child's Play

Part 14:  
Only Child's Play

_Holy crap. There's nothing but _talking _in this chapter. Well, okay -- angst also. I don't think it's bad -- I was just planning to get to more stuff to happen in this section, but before I knew it, another 13,000-odd words had gone by and they were actually dreadfully important so I couldn't get rid of any of them. Sigh. At least I made my deadline. Anyways, here's hoping you won't kill me for the completely botched pacing of everything, or the confusing short scenes that probably don't make any sense at all. Gah, I'm really starting to suck at this._

_1/31/07: It's been requested by a reviewer that I add this warning to the chapter, for added readability. TAKE THIS CHAPTER SLOWLY. There's a lot going on, at a very subtle level, and it's harder to keep track of than I initially thought -- this is probably the most complicated, info-oriented chapter in the story so far. Try to make sure you work out what's going on in each scene before you move on to the next; take notes if it helps (oh noes, it's like school! XD). Here's wondering who'll figure out which single scene is completely unnecessary except as neato character development..._

* * *

From a distance, it was quite an impressive spectacle. Ki flashes made the sky blaze in no fewer than five distinct colors, more often than not sending up plumes of dust and smoke and even an occasional spray of blood that made it several yards into the air. Sound, muffled by the remove, was comprised of vocalizations spanning the entire scale of both pitch and volume -- war cries and pain cries and cries of fear or fury made a mesh-like blanket of vibrations that resonated over the area for more than a mile around their epicenter.

What a rare sight it was! But it wouldn't be wise to get too close. The passerby hunkered down to lessen its height, and looked again in time to catch sight of a flying formation of soldiers -- reinforcements -- sweeping across the sky above. They went to replace the dwindling blue and green and red ki, just as the last of it died out, making the clashing hues of violet and amber the only things to overlay the vast sky and offset the crumbled buildings, with a soft limning like an aurora even though it was still day. In a moment, they replenished the spectrum and it all continued without pause.

Too many powerful beings were present. Here there should be only low-level beings, with simple villages such as the one being extinguished; it was uncommon for anyone of real strength to take an interest in this place. Perhaps it would be better to go; but the passerby was too curious.

It crept closer. Surely it would be safe as long as it remained unseen.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was late in the evening when the meeting convened. There was plenty of light, due to the profligate use of lanterns and candles throughout the main reception room of the temple, and it seemed somber for all of that, as tension connected everyone with hair-thin strands along a dangerous frequency. There was a sense of bewilderment about the room, as this hasty collecting together came on the heels of last night's fear and desperation -- and having their much-needed relaxation cut short meant that no one was ready.

Still -- they could have been better prepared than _this._

Genkai surveyed the group she had collected, sitting in a loose semi-circle around the room, and deliberately gave in to the urge to cover her eyes and sigh deeply. How anything was going to get done, she had no idea.

Koenma was looking twitchy, nervous, and even guiltier than usual; Yuusuke was surly and sullen; Kurama, still pale and weak, looked strangely subdued and kept shooting Yuusuke sidelong glances; Kuwabara was still exhausted despite all his sleep; the recently-awakened Botan was biting the inside of her cheek; and Touya, the new arrival, had no expression but a clear air of confusion about him. None of them were speaking.

This was an improvement, however. Had they begun to talk without being given a subject, she dreaded what they would end up yelling about -- and yelling was unavoidable. At this point, no one liked anyone enough to be more than polite, except for Touya, who would be lucky to get a word in edgewise if Genkai couldn't keep things on track. The aged psychic had another urge, which she did not indulge, to just go back and help Yukina tend the koorime so that she wouldn't have to be a part of what was certain to be ninety per cent idiocy. That would probably doom the other ten per cent, however, which was the necessary part.

At least she didn't have to call for attention, with the silence hanging heavy over the room. She made certain that she was fully resigned before beginning to speak.

"Koenma has had some news," were her first words. "That's why you've all been woken up, though I'd have preferred to let you rest a bit more; understand that this is serious enough to take precedence over my judgment as a healer."

She paused to view the reactions around her. Botan looked dreadfully worried at that -- she'd only just been filled in on what she'd missed the rest of the day, unaware that Kurama and Yuusuke had had a falling-out until just a few minutes ago. While relieved in the utmost that everyone was all right, she had very little equilibrium and was clearly not sure how to be acting around her now-estranged companions. Even looking to Koenma for guidance as usual was a lost cause, what with his uncharacteristically closed posture that could only be interpreted as unapproachable. Genkai felt rather sorry for the air-headed woman.

The rest of them had visages ranging from forced disinterest (Yuusuke) to carefully modulated trepidation (Kurama) to impatient confusion (Kuwabara) to no change (Touya). Koenma, who knew, she ignored.

And now, the bombshell. "According to his sources, the demons are killing again -- laying waste to the Makai countryside, more accurately."

There were general expressions of shock and solemnity all around. Yuusuke went just a bit pale behind his closed-off front.

"Ah. I was expecting this," Kurama murmured.

Kuwabara gasped and leaned forward in alarm. "Both of them? But I thought they were separated now!"

Genkai held up her hand to forestall further speech. "Apparently not," she said acidly, and continued, "Koenma's aides have given him as much information as they have, which isn't a whole lot, and from it we have to come up with a plan to stop these demons, and stop them soon -- preferably before they make it to the human world. In order to do that, Koenma is going to tell us exactly what resources we have -- specifically, what our primary weapon is." She angled a wounding look at him to reinforce that declaration, and stepped back. "Take it away."

And, predictably: "Hold on just a minute!" Yuusuke glared. "None of us are in any shape to be getting into another fight with these guys!"

"Moot," said Kurama immediately. "We do not have a choice. Please continue, sir." His tone was only a little chilly.

"We do, too!" the raven-haired detective bulled ahead. "Can't he stall them, or something? He's in charge of a whole world," and he pointed at Koenma without looking at him, "doesn't he have _anyone_ else?"

Botan, whom he was addressing, shook her blue head regretfully. "The Reikai doesn't have any teams except for us that are capable of dealing with a threat this bad. Well, none that Koenma has control over, anyway."

Genkai caught Touya raising an eyebrow, and kept herself from doing the same. _So there are stronger defenses available, but not to the chief administrator? Interesting. I wonder for what they're supposed to be used, if not situations like these._

Yuusuke was clearly not thinking along the same lines. "Then what the hell is he good for?" He folded his arms and glowered at the air in front of him.

"He's good for telling us exactly what we're up against," Genkai snapped at him. "You, on the other hand, are pretty much only good for blowing up whatever we tell you to blow up. Now shut your trap and listen, or get out."

While Kuwabara appeared faintly shocked at her harshness, he was the only one. The smaller boy was a study in rebellious indifference. Koenma himself had an expression that expertly blended resignation, guilt and what might have been slight, self-mocking amusement. "Well I wouldn't have put it that way myself, but I suppose I _am_ good for that, at least." He let his first words since arriving settle over the group at large, and smiled halfway. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning will do," Touya stated without inflection.

Genkai, throttling down her annoyance at having had her brisk beginning for this vital meeting mired down in stupidity, found his demeanor as intriguing as this droll response. He'd clearly already assessed the other people present, and his judgment was evident in the continued confusion mixed with concern and a touch of disdain. Minus the confusion, that was Genkai's general feeling towards the Tantei group and its leader. Imbeciles, all of them -- except for Kuwabara, amusingly enough, who seemed to have the clearest head. Yuusuke certainly didn't, which was evident from his speaking about Koenma rather than to him.

And Kurama, though more stable than this morning, had an odd aura that belied his calm exterior, and that could mean one of several things. Either he had finally put some thought into his actions and realized what he'd been doing (he was smart, once he decided to use that keen mind of his), or he was feeling guilty for some of what he'd said to Yuusuke during their fight, or both. _I hope it's both. It'll be clear enough from how he plans right now._

"The beginning?" Koenma let his eyes go closed for a moment, then reopened them. "The beginning was a long time ago. Six centuries, or close to it. I had another Tantei group then, and like you, this one made it into legend fairly quickly. Unfortunately, they didn't last out the experience." He paused, whether for dramatic effect -- for which Genkai might have to punch him -- or for the structuring of his thoughts, it wasn't apparent. "They were a sister and brother, and one other boy, all of them from the same area of Japan, and they were the first group I'd ever had charge of since my father installed me as head administrator. I recruited them to guard the kekkai barrier -- you remember, I explained the barrier to you a couple of months ago -- since it was very weak back then."

"The beginning," interrupted Yuusuke rudely, "is already boring. What's the _point_ in this story?" This time he was staring at Genkai -- probably because she'd been the last to talk to him.

She growled. "You're getting one more chance, and that's only because it's more useful to have you here than sulking the next room. The next thing that comes out of your mouth had better be something useful."

Once again, all he did was glare and say nothing further. Kuwabara, on the other hand, immediately interjected, "Don't you wanna know this stuff, Urameshi? You've been asking about it for days!"

Fortunately, Touya broke in before Genkai had to, heading off what might have been a less than pleasant budding argument. "Policing the barrier can hardly be called worthy of legend. Can we assume that they performed some other service as well?" He shot a look at Kuwabara, who didn't appear to notice; but the old woman did, and thanked him silently for it. However well-meant, Yuusuke would not respond well to prodding of any variety. She'd rather not have a fistfight on her hands.

Koenma was answering the question smoothly, also aware of the violent undercurrent. "They ended up being sent after some strong demons, like all my employees do eventually. It's hard to find any given time period where there isn't some kind of threat." But he stopped here, and looked at Genkai. "He has a point, you know. I'm going to summarize instead of telling the whole story."

The woman snorted loudly. "No weaseling out of this one, sonny. I think you owe all of us the entire thing, and I don't intend to let you get away without telling it."

"I don't dispute that, but we don't have a lot of time. I can tell you the rest of the details later on. Don't worry, I won't leave out anything important or incriminating." He was smiling that not-smile again.

She held up her hands in surrender to his logic. "Fine, but you'd better not. I know more about this thing than you probably think." She let her eyes rest overlong on his.

Kurama spoke up quietly. "I have my own theory as well. Granted, much of it is based on rumor, but an object as powerful as this -- well, as the youko, it interested me quite a bit. I believe I spent at least a year searching for it after the news of it reached me." He acquired an intriguing cast to his features. "But I had not known that you created it."

Everyone looked at him sharply, and then at Koenma, in more or less perfect stereo -- except for Genkai herself, who had no cause for surprise. "You _made_ this thing?" asked Kuwabara, shocked.

"Well, yes." The princeling sighed. "That wasn't very nice, Kurama. Just because you figured it out --"

"Oh, stop whining and get on with it." Genkai was in no mood to witness _that_ particular argument. "As you pointed out, we're short on time."

"But he _made_ it!" Apparently, Kuwabara was having trouble moving past that bit of information. "Why the heck would he do that?"

"Be quiet for one moment and he'll tell you!" snapped Botan. "You're just making it take longer!"

"Well so are you by yelling at me!"

"I'm trying to be useful by telling you to shut your mouth!"

Kurama threw in, "Both of you, this isn't necessary right now --"

"Everyone be _quiet!"_ Fed up, the psychic stood abruptly and brandished her tea at the group like a deadly weapon. This granted her instantaneous attention. "The floor is not open for discussion," she said flatly. "You will shut up and you will listen, and then when you _are_ allowed to discuss, you'll have all the facts and can talk out of your mouths and not your asses. And that will be when _I_ tell you. Is that understood?"

Yuusuke made a Hiei-like noise of derision. No one else objected.

Koenma picked back up in the silence after Genkai's rude bark, as had been her intention. "Thanks," he said with a fair amount of irony, and launched directly back into his abbreviated tale while he still had the opportunity. "Well, so I made it. I wasn't supposed to -- just to get that out of the way. Kami aren't allowed to make objects of power. But my team was in trouble, and I was new to this position. I was also barely over a century old, which is equivalent to thirteen or so, and if you want the truth, I was pretty stupid." Another of those incessant sighs; they were making the elderly woman want to backhand him into the wall. "So I wanted to get my Tantei out of an impossible position, and I broke the rules and made the Orb."

"If I may," said Kurama, "it's known in the Makai as the Kurainaku -- no doubt a facetious name, given its origin."

"Probably. I'm almost finished." He drank some of his tea. "So here's the short version: the Tantei used it, they won, and they died." Over the small gasps of his audience, he continued, "Apparently the thing's lethal for humans to use, for some reason. After that, while I was still figuring out what killed my team, I lost the Orb -- it literally vanished off my radar, and I couldn't manage to locate it anywhere. Not that I didn't try. I literally searched for decades, using every method I could get away with. My best guess is that it was found by a wandering youkai who didn't know what it was, and kept until it was lost or the youkai died, which is when Gendou and Donari found it. It doesn't have any specific power signature, unfortunately, and I can't sense it unless it's being used -- and an anonymous power reading in the Makai is worse than a needle in a haystack."

Yuusuke, who had been very quiet for the entire recitation, chose that moment to make a loud and pointed comment to the effect of, "Why does it not surprise me that this is your fault? Oh, that's right -- because _everything_ is your fault."

"That's it," said Genkai over his last few words. "You're officially banned from this room. Come with me, _now."_ She was upright and advancing with a stormcloud on her brow. _Of all the gods-damned impertinent stupidity --_

He was already standing. "Yeah, whatever," he said insolently. "Anything that gets me away from _him._ Lead the way, hag." For once, the usually playful and irreverent insult sounded completely sincere.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and followed her as she yanked the door open, unable to entirely contain her ire, and half-slammed it behind them.

"Oh, dear," came Botan's voice far too audibly from behind her. "That's not going to be good."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Closer now, it was apparent to the passerby that the fight was almost boringly one-sided. No wonder now why the reinforcements kept coming -- they were being exterminated efficiently as soon as they arrived. It wondered where they were coming from. And who, indeed, were these creatures they fought? So few, and so _strong,_ to withstand the forces sent against them; and with no clear goal beyond destruction. What did they want here?

The passerby thought for the first time of its own home territory, near here, and pondered whether it would be able to find a new one if necessary. It knew where there were some demons weaker than it, a bit further away -- it could always take theirs, although the hunting wasn't as good around there. But if it were going to do that, it would be better to start soon, and have itself firmly established by the time its own home was gone.

And there was really not as much to see here as it had thought. There was no fun in watching senseless slaughter that no one was even going to eat. Perhaps it would return later to scavenge, when the danger was past, just so that all that meat would not go to waste.

It slipped away, and headed west.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Hiei was floating silently in one upper corner of the meeting room as the two exited, behind Botan but well within Koenma's sight (and so far, to his credit, the ruler had hardly glanced at him since the initial pained glare with which he had greeted the Jaganshi), and listening to the half-war council, half-argument progressing below. He was toying with the idea of leaving and watching over Yukina some more, as he had no interest in acquiring another headache so soon after ridding himself of the one Yuusuke had given him.

Part of why he'd come here (other than having limited places from which to choose) was to shake off the lingering traces of ill-feeling by giving himself something supposedly useful on which to concentrate. Entering Yuusuke's dreams so carelessly, he had gotten far more than he'd bargained for. True, his objective -- to probe his surface thoughts and determine what had really happened during the battle -- had been the work of a mere moment, as the boy had been thinking of little else even unconscious. The flood of emotions had been a veritable blow to the head, however, and his planned topics for discussion had immediately shrunk to only a bare few.

He was so very, very gratified that he had escaped with relative swiftness; he sensed that it could have quite easily become a drawn-out emotional encounter even worse than the first one with Kurama. Bad enough that the deluge of rage and pain to which he had been subjected had caused him to lose his temper without meaning to, and he was not fond of that fact. The detective had touched a sore spot, to be sure, but Hiei should not have snapped the way he had.

He was wholly irritated with himself, which overshadowed even the vibes in the overly high-strung atmosphere. Now that he'd been forced to admit aloud the full extent of his shame, it was difficult to continue to think of it as having been lesser. He'd all but forgotten it, thinking about it as a deliberate choice in terms of hypothetical intent: had he been lucid, he'd likely have chosen the same action (in a much calmer manner), given the state of his emotions over the three weeks after Kurama had "died". He'd been thinking on such things ever since he realized that he'd lost any real direction for his life, and the death of his partner would only have validated what he already knew: that his purpose had run itself out, and there was no point in continuing. He'd have preferred an indirect method, such as finding an enemy stronger than he and fighting to the death-- but as powerful as he'd been, there were few such enemies to be had, and none that his thrice-damned parole would have allowed him to reach. When one had no choice, one had no choice.

That alone was enough to brand him a coward, but to have been so thoroughly far from reason that it had happened by _accident_ -- that made him an object of his own sheerest contempt, and especially since he was skilled enough with a blade that he ought not have been_able_ to accidentally wound himself in that manner, no matter what other lacerations he had been inflicting on himself at the time.

He had been a complete mess, as weak as any ningen in the face of what should have been only another loss in the long parade of his miserable life. And now Yuusuke was going to tell everyone about it, and Kurama was going to be upset that Hiei had lied to him (albeit in a rather roundabout fashion). The toddler would have a fit. The oaf would be shocked out of his nonexistent wits. And Yukina --

She, a youkai, could not help but think less of him. While the humans would be relieved, of all things (such an absolutely foreign concept to him), she and Kurama would see his disgrace for what it was. He had hoped to spare himself that knowledge, even to the point of denying that there was any need for shame, but the Tantei's accusation had struck so close to it that it had slipped out all unwitting.

He felt the echoes of Yuusuke even now across his skin, so much keener and brighter than Kurama's had been (thank all the kami that the kitsune knew how to _shield_): fury and hatred and pain and sorrow and guilt and relief and joy. It made him react, on a level over which he could exert no real control, a visceral level where very little answered to his reason. He'd so rarely used his telepathy to directly connect with someone, the only experience to which entering someone's dream could be compared -- had forgotten how blamed hard it was to let go of emotions that were thrust down his throat in that manner. They bordered on painful just to contain and keep from leaking into his own. He'd had quite enough contamination already, and was in no mood to permit more.

But it didn't matter. He really didn't have anything more he could do, about anything. Playing the part of the constant spectator was tiring him. His conviction to at least be present at the battle was only because he liked even less the danger-sense that would surely pull at him whether or not he was there. His use of fire, though it had potential as a distracting tactic (fire from nowhere -- wouldn't _that_ confuse everyone), was not strong enough to be of any appreciable help; it would be have enough to fry Koenma, given that he apparently could not or would not put up personal shields while at the Reikai, but against Kurama's enemies it would be equivalent to an energy-expensive light show.

And he would be sharing this information with Koenma at least, to add to his store of tactical facts, had the meeting not just collapsed in idiocy. Although he wasn't surprised that Yuusuke was losing his wits just now; he was practically broadcasting the fact that he was unbalanced to anyone with a speck of empathy.

And Kurama was broadcasting, as well; but it wasn't fractured stability that he projected -- it was a surprising level of clarity.

Although he'd planned to with dead-set certainty that he was going to have a blistering talk with the youko as soon as the opportunity appeared, Hiei had changed his mind a couple of hours ago, upon the unexpected discovery that it was no longer necessary. Kurama knew what he'd been doing, and required no prodding to understand the ramifications. He was awash in a mixture of guilt and resolve -- and taken together with Hiei's still-simmering fury, that was quite enough incentive for him to cancel that uncomfortable encounter.

He remained extremely upset about this whole situation, whether or not he was obliged to do something about it. It was one thing to be betrayed and lied to by Koenma, from whom he expected very little -- he really hadn't liked or trusted the baby to begin with -- but it was quite another to be deceived by Kurama.

He and Kurama had an understanding -- perhaps not voiced, but present as much as the kitsune's tiny, hair-rooted seedlings. To each other, they were honest but not open. They neither asked nor volunteered unnecessary personal information. They watched each other's backs, listened when the other spoke, and gave aid only as needed. They often chose each other's company over solitude, they lent automatic credence to any strategies or ideas the other proffered, and they served as dependable sparring partners, who would not take advantage of weakness to seriously injure without permission. What was offered might be accepted but never taken for granted. Flaws were revealed in privacy in order to strengthen mutual defense, and a certain amount of reciprocal protection was expected from both of them at all times, whether they were disposed or not.

Such an intimate arrangement brought Kurama up to a special status -- below family, but only just, and deserving of Hiei's guardianship even outside their relationship as allies and Tantei. Hiei's death should not have changed any of that.

Unless, it occurred to him . . .

Perhaps the manner of his death, even with the full extent not yet known to him, had been enough for Kurama to consider his own trust broken. True, Hiei had never made any promise to keep himself alive per se; but he supposed in retrospect that suicide could be construed as a void of their arrangement. He had had no way to know that he would ever speak to Kurama again, and these ludicrous circumstances did not cancel that out. He was no Yuusuke, to use luck as a justification and an excuse for poor or unintelligent conduct.

So was it the case? He studied Kurama, below him and to the right, fishing for an impression specific enough to tell him; but there was too much turmoil in the vicinity to sift out the data that he wanted. Perhaps he would have to visit Kurama's dreams after all. But even that information would probably not be worth the -- discomfort.

Not that _this_ was much more fun, he thought with some disgust, reaching for annoyance to distract him. He detested illogicity, and there wasn't anything else going on at the moment; the rest of the group in this room was still half-speechless, unsure as to whether they ought to continue in Genkai's absence or wait until she came back. Small talk was too shallow for these proceedings, and so silence was the best that could be decided upon. There was nothing to do but wait for her return.

Hiei hated to wait.

"This is pointless."

He found it rather pleasantly entertaining to watch Botan stiffen all the way down her spine, and even more so to receive such a look of venom from the heir to Reikai. He was able to summon his first smirk in hours. That little bit of malicious good-feeling, he hoped, might just help him forget his current thoughts, and get him through the rest of this fracas.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The wooden frame rattled painfully under the sudden shock of the slamming door. Then Genkai rounded on her former student, eyes narrowed to slits to take in his defiant posture and cocky expression, and struck him across the face with the back of her hand so that he almost stumbled into the wall.

"You stupid brat!" she seethed, keeping her hand stilled though it wanted to rise again. "What the hell do you think we're doing in there? Planning a birthday party?"

"Yeah, well, whatever," Yuusuke responded in an insultingly flippant tone, recovering quickly from the slap. "It's like you said, I'm not good for much."

"You're certainly good at screwing up everyone else by acting like a spoiled child! If you're so juvenile that you have to act out just to get attention, you can go back to your room and sulk all you want, but I will not let you mess up something so important!" Reaching up with incredible speed, she grabbed his chin before he could recoil and forced him down to her level. "It may mean all our _lives._ Do you understand that at all?"

He didn't even try to pull away, which she knew was designed to infuriate her even more. Instead, he _grinned_ at her. It failed to cover his own fury. "Yeah, I get it. Sorry, and all that."

Disgusted, she shoved him back. "If you're so attached to your precious anger that you're blind to the truth, you can rot in it. But you will_not_ speak to Koenma about it again under my roof. That is final."

"Don't worry, old lady. I wasn't planning on it."

_And he has to have the last word. Fine. He can keep it._

The door slammed once more.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The silence was oppressive, and the relief that it was going to be over in a moment was beyond words. Watching Yuusuke leave had been like déjà vu, a throwback to _school_ of all things -- but now, Kuwabara was somehow able to focus on Genkai as she reappeared through the door, which forestalled the question on his lips as to why Botan had just made a strangled noise in her throat. Perhaps it had been that sound that helped his mind stop running around in circles, as it had since this meeting had begun.

He was too tired for this. He'd been sleeping most of the day, after a while of supervising the unconscious koorime (and helping Yukina put Yuusuke to bed when, as predicted, he passed out from energy overuse), but he knew his body hadn't recovered from being drained yet. That was unusual. He always got over injuries pretty quickly -- though he usually had Yukina to heal him, anyway. Nobody had any energy right now. That was why he was so pissed off at Yuusuke for wasting what little he had, _again._

The words exchanged had been impossible to miss; not that he wouldn't have listened, given the chance. This way he knew exactly what to be mad at Yuusuke for. If it was going to be impossible not to be mad at him, he at least wanted good reasons.

_This bites. What's he thinking, saying stupid stuff like that while we're all in trouble? And now he won't hear anything important and we'll have to tell it to him later._

"Sorry about that." Genkai's tone dripped sarcasm. "We should be able to continue without further interruptions."

"Yeah, right," Kuwabara muttered, not quite managing to contain it. "You sure he'll stay out there?"

"Of course he will." The sarcasm had been replaced by unmistakable warning. "And unless you'd like to join him, I suggest you let Koenma finish talking."

"Quite. This is taking far too long." Touya's voice was clipped -- and startling, considering how little he'd spoken up until now. "We'd best remember, however, that Yuusuke's role in this will have to be minimized," he continued, "or the plan will be too complicated to be explained as quickly as it must."

"That's if it can afford to be minimized. He's very powerful, and has also met these demons in battle before, which makes him invaluable as a combatant. We're facing enemies far stronger than can be dealt with by one youkai -- even one possessing the weapon we have. After all, they have the same resource." This was from Kurama, whose eyes had turned even more unreadable than they'd been before. Kuwabara wasn't even sure that counted as an expression at all, except for the strange glint to his eyes that had gone jade-green from their usual emerald.

And he wondered, suddenly enough to miss Touya's reply: why was he, Kazuma Kuwabara, even bothering to watch the others in the room? Why wasn't he going after Yuusuke, to beat the living daylights out of him for being a dumbass? Didn't he have some sort of obligation to do that? After all, he was the only one who kept Yuusuke in line -- that punk would get away with all kinds of crap without someone to punch him out every once in a while. And this was really, really _stupid_ crap that could ruin their fight strategy and maybe get them killed. Not that Genkai hadn't already done some of that for him, but -- dammit, this was his job. What else was he really good for?

He was already rising, before he'd really made up his mind on a conscious level, as his instinct for fighting Yuusuke surged. The hand on his shoulder was not really unexpected, though, and he let it stop him.

"Don't be rash, Kuwabara," said Kurama softly. "Let him cool down. He needs the time alone." His voice was as dim as his eyes. "I doubt he'll need to be reprimanded any more."

"I know," he answered, surprised to find that he actually did. "I just -- I wanna do something."

"As do we all; but the best we can do is leave him alone for the time being." He paused, as if to let that permeate, and addressed Koenma next. "Please, tell us all you can about the Orb. Be concise. We must get as much information out as we can, so as to have the most time remaining to plan our strategy."

The very silent kami nodded, having made serious inroads on the pot of tea since Yuusuke's departure as if to calm himself; he was as twitchy as Botan, and Kuwabara wasn't going to wonder why. His voice was free of its previous slight scratchy sound, however. "I'll have to do a bit of background explaining first. It has to do with my personal power."

Kuwabara refocused. _This could be important._ "Like how?"

"Well, I'm fairly young for a god -- I'm not even as old as Kurama really is, and demons don't generally live nearly as long. I've got very little experience in using my own power, since I haven't matured fully. That facet of my training isn't supposed to start until I'm at least a thousand years old, which is why I've got strictly administrative duties until then. My father knows how to use his -- he could have saved Kurama, saved Yuusuke, healed the koorime, and given everyone in this room all their energy back three times over, and not even broken a sweat. I can't tap into most of my own, so I'm only really as strong as Yuusuke, and I have no idea how to use my power offensively."

"The point, please," said Genkai firmly. "Background is fine, but it's already been established that we need to speed this up."

He lifted a hand. "I was just getting to it. The Orb, basically, is a conduit for my energy; you pull the power through it and merge it with your own by simple force of will. It can tap _all_ of my power, including the ninety per cent I can't even use myself. It's a part of me, sort of, so there's not even any guarantee it would stop working if I were dead, for a couple of odd reasons that have to do with the way death works for my kind."

Touya's eyes had gone wide, and his brows shot up. "That would make it --"

Koenma made a look that might have been an attempt at ironic nonchalance. "Close to unlimited power, mostly indestructible, and in a form easy enough for a child to use. How's that for a bright idea?"

After the short, stunned silence that followed, Genkai was the first to speak what they were all thinking. "You," she said, "are a _dimwit."_

He smiled with some subtle nuance that Kuwabara couldn't figure out before it went away. "I figured that part out when it vanished, and I actually thought about what it could do. I'm going to destroy it, in case you're wondering, once we can get all of it back. Since I made it, I may be the only one who can do that." His smile thinned. "I really wish I could do it now, but I need the rest of it -- half isn't enough to cancel its power. Trying could have some very bad results that I'm not willing to chance."

Touya's entire response to that was, "So."

Kuwabara's brain repeated that syllable jerkily, backfiring like a faulty car as he finally _understood._ The object of their mission -- that tiny, innocuous jewel -- was a force more powerful than him, Yuusuke, Kurama and all the rest of them combined. It had taken demons who were barely strong enough to survive and made them unstoppable monsters who had nearly killed Kurama, and _had_ killed all of Yukina's people in a single morning.

And it was the cause of _everything._ A centuries-old mistake had made everything happen -- Hiei, Kurama, Yukina and _everything_ --

He fished for words to go with the incomprehensible feelings he was now experiencing, and failed to catch any.

But Kurama was already speaking instead. "It's no wonder, then, that humans cannot withstand its use," he stated, as if it should have been self-evident. "Unused to channeling such a volume of foreign power, their bodies would give out quickly. Youkai, conversely, are built for such things and would suffer no ill effects."

"Obvious, isn't it?"

"Quite," said Touya again.

"Obvious or not, if you don't stop being self-deprecating, I'm going to send you out to have tea with Yuusuke," Genkai told Koenma frankly. "It doesn't get us anywhere, and I'm tired of hearing you whine."

"Sorry. I'll try not to."

Kurama pressed, "It's evident that Touya is here due to our team's current lack of full-blooded youkai to use the item. I presume he is to wield it?"

"Yup."

"Is there anything else you can tell him, before we begin planning in earnest?"

"Just a few things."

"Fine." The ice master in question didn't really sound impatient, but Kuwabara somehow knew he was.

Koenma cleared his throat and nodded. "It's pretty simple: don't pull more power out of it than you can handle. It's not your body's ability to channel it -- you're a youkai, there's not really a limit on that since that's how it's made -- it's your mental ability to control the power. Pull too much, and you'll spark like a firecracker and start destroying everything around you."

"That makes sense." Another monochrome response; Kuwabara was beginning to find them unnerving.

"And feeding power _into_ it is potentially a very bad thing," Koenma continued. "It was designed for one-way use -- if you channel an attack through it, it should multiply its power exponentially, but you might as well be sending that same attack right at me, and in a way that I can't shield against. You'd probably kill me, to be honest."

"Really?" The orange-haired boy was disbelieving -- the thought hadn't really occurred to him even after hearing its origin that Koenma might be in danger from the item. He guessed that sort of made sense . . .

The prince lifted an ironic brow. "Not to tempt you or anything, but it's pretty likely. That's how I found out about the Orb again -- that it had been found, I mean. One of the two demons put power into it, and even as weak as they were, it almost knocked me out. They obviously figured out they could get more use out of it by drawing on its energy instead, though, and that's why they're a menace now." He gave Touya the most peculiar look. "I'd hate to think what the backlash would be like if someone really strong, like you for instance, were to push energy into it. As I said, I'm guessing I'd be done for."

"Wow, you really lucked out that the demons who found it were small-time," said Kuwabara, still obeying the urge to say whatever came into his mind.

"Thank you, I'm aware of that," Koenma answered dryly, and turned back to Touya. "But I'm only telling you this so you don't get any creative ideas. Since you're a youkai, you shouldn't have any problems with using it the way it's made to be used -- and it's also supposed to reinforce the point that no one else should touch the thing. There's no way around the issue of death." He swept a refractive gaze around the room, as if trying to see whether any of them were going to be stupid enough to disregard his warning.

Kuwabara did his best to look resolute. He, at least, didn't intend to break that rule -- he didn't want to die, and he certainly didn't want to kill Koenma, mad at him or not. So he'd just play his part, and help Touya beat the monsters.

He wasn't yet sure what he'd be _doing_ the entire fight, if Touya was the only one who could do any real damage (even what Kuwabara had managed to do before had been pretty much useless), but the meeting wasn't done yet and he was pretty sure that would get figured out soon.

As it happened, unfortunately, it mostly didn't.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"That's enough. Pull them all out."

She was taken aback, and her bowed head lifted. "Sir?"

"I've learned all I need to know. I think it's time I spoke to him on this matter. In the meantime, no further waste of resources is required."

So that was how it would be. "I see. I will send the word."

"You've done well. I will require much of you before this is over."

"Thank you, sir. I will do my best."

"Indeed. You are dismissed."

_And my part in this is once again reduced. I am grateful._

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Alone at last, Yuusuke wasn't sure how long he stood there before he eventually put his back against the wall and slid down into a sitting position, gaze focusing on nothing in particular. His heart rate was adamantly resisting his attempt to slow it down from the frenetic patter it had adopted as soon as he had entered the meeting room, and seen who the other occupants were -- a shock and a twist of his gut together as he had seen Koenma, and the automatic closing of his throat at Kurama's presence. He'd barely noticed Touya, but that was a memory ghost of a different sort, and only tied in with his reaction to the kitsune, which was not diminishing now that they were out of sight. He was so very glad that he could not hear them still talking despite his proximity, insofar as he was able to be glad about anything.

On top of that unkind surprise, it felt surreal to even be awake, especially since he didn't really recall going to sleep. He'd barely had time before being hauled off to the meeting to shake off the random circles invading his vision, after having woken in another unfamiliar room in the temple, with another blinding headache. He remembered a lot of the rooms here, from the six months he'd spent training with his teacher, but wasn't even sure he'd seen half the temple during that time. Certainly he'd been in foreign territory since they'd gotten here. It wasn't helping anything to feel like he had, yet hadn't been here before; but nothing was really helping, at that.

He definitely wasn't, either. It had been a while since he had sat and listened to stupid things come out of his mouth without caring enough to stop them. He had used to do that all the time in school, in the hopes that he'd be kicked out of class, which made Keiko less angry with him (somehow) than just skipping outright. He would figure maybe he'd wanted to get kicked out of the meeting, too, except he hadn't and he knew it, and he resented it, mostly because he also knew he deserved it. In some strange connective tangle of synapses, his brain wanted to make it Genkai's fault by deciding that she ought to have known that he just couldn't help being an ass right now, and let him stay until it was over even though he was being disruptive. It was aware that this was unreasonable and it did not give a damn.

That was its only comprehensible processing, though, so it had settled on it for lack of anything else making sense. If it was the only thing he could direct with any real surety, he could and would blame whoever he liked for this, because it _sucked._ It _was_ Genkai's fault for not telling him anything about Koenma being here, or Touya, and for treating him like a child with a temper when he had real fucking _problems_ with what was going on here.

And after Genkai, he'd start with Kurama. It was Kurama's fault there had been a meeting to be kicked out of in the first place. If he'd tried to hide instead of jumping into danger, they wouldn't be in this position; none of them would be hurt or weak, and the demons wouldn't be killing so soon again. They'd have had time to plan, to make sure they had an advantage, and it would have been easy to do for once. Damned arrogant youko had ruined _everything_ and wouldn't even_admit_ it --

He refused to remember the argument. It was too late to do anything about it now, no matter how much he regretted losing control of himself like that. And he hadn't been wrong -- he knew that for sure. That was what made it impossible to think straight.

But if his mind was clouded, the rest of him, underneath his need to blame someone, was utterly clear about its state of affairs, and made no apology. He was almost sick to his stomach, which clenched around a ball of too-cold fear. He felt as though he had no control over anything anymore -- not even himself, especially after the abbreviated battle that had landed him here. He hadn't been able to do anything at all to help Kurama -- he'd have fared the same even without Yuusuke's presence, because that was the way he'd planned it. He'd failed to tell Yuusuke how strong the demons _really_ were; had probably done that on purpose, to keep him away from the fight. As if he'd really have let Kurama go it alone, even if they _had_ been less powerful -- but he actually almost had. The fox had just been manipulating him, and the only reason he hadn't fallen for it was because he'd gotten lucky, and had Kuwabara to tell him that it was safe to help.

He wanted it to make a _difference._ He wanted to be able to do something to fix all of this, and Kurama had tried to make that impossible. If he had just kept in touch during his mission, or at least told Yuusuke the truth afterwards, everything might have been different -- better.

Threats like this weren't even supposed to happen, and definitely not this way. Come to think of it, they never had. Koenma always knew about things before they got this bad, and Yuusuke was always at least_there_ by the time they did. The village shouldn't have been destroyed, and Kurama shouldn't have been injured, and there shouldn't have been so many killings in the Makai. Wasn't he supposed to stop things like that? That was his freaking _job._

But Koenma _had_ known about this. He'd known about it and kept it from them, and that was why everything had gone to hell. _I hate him. I fucking hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him . . ._

And there was so much at stake here. Just when things had seemed like they were over, they were going to be marching into danger again -- not even recovered, and they could all be killed this time. He couldn't possibly protect them all, like he always had before.

In an insane injustice of circumstance, this wasn't his fault, but it was somehow his responsibility. He had to remember that fact if he wanted any shred of a chance at getting everyone through this but even that was too hard to hold onto; all thoughts were, except one.

He knew he wouldn't be able to take losing anyone else -- not after losing Hiei, and not after almost losing Kurama.

It wasn't fair. This had started out as such a simple mission: retrieve an artifact, take it to Reikai. Hard enough without Hiei dying; hard enough without Kurama's sudden return and realizing Koenma's betrayal; _hard enough,_ dammit. But now it was the Tournament all over again. An impossibly strong enemy, a terrible emotional burden -- and Kurama dying before his eyes.

He still couldn't breathe right. He hadn't been able to since he'd woken up to find the redhead sitting next to him in the sickroom -- or, really, since last month, when all of this had begun. He had hardly noticed at first; the pressure in his lungs had been so subtle, so feather-light and easy to shrug off, that he'd thought it would pass with enough time. He should have known that had just been his own emotional blocks -- the "six-foot wall of junk", as Genkai had termed it, that he'd set up to keep that side of him in the background.

Shocking tragedies could break that wall, as they had before, but this had been a gradual erosion of a kind he hadn't thought possible. It was as though, just as he began to lean on that wall for support and relief, he had suddenly found it shaky and paper-thin, ready to tear at any moment under his weight. And he hadn't even been able to feel it happening.

Too much had hit him all at once, and things he thought he'd moved past were suddenly as painful as they had ever been: Genkai's death and resurrection, the near-loss of Kuwabara in the fight against Toguro, the strain of the Tournament and what had been required of him to keep his loved ones safe; and everything in the past few weeks had brought it back to him. Kurama's apparent death, the very real death of Hiei, Kurama's return and Koenma's lies, and then almost losing Kurama _again_ -- but that was just the sum of his personal trauma. How much more he'd unwittingly caused by blundering through half-aware of himself, he didn't want to think about. Like an artillery barrage, it had all worn down his defenses to a tattered remnant of their former strength, as old wounds piled atop new and demanded to know why he'd forgotten to bandage them.

But yesterday -- yesterday had been absolutely the last of what he could take, and stay sane. He still wasn't sure if he was going to even now.

The end of the battle played back in his mind with unerring, unrelenting detail, looping back on itself so that it could continue without pause, making the cold spread from his stomach and seep into his arms so that he had to shiver to make it stop. It began at the instant that he'd realized the youko was no longer at his side, and skidded into a stop -- _Why hadn't he said he was going to double back?_ -- and it continued all the way through to the last moment he remembered, gripping Botan and Yukina's arms with bloody hands gone white-knuckled with fear . . . and the dizzying flash of what he realized now had been all of his energy leaving him, a massive, desperate gift to boost their flagging strength. He hadn't meant to; he had almost died. But he would have been glad to, if it had been the only way.

And yet finding that Kurama was actually alive, beyond all expectations and all hope, hadn't made him happy, relieved, or any of the things he knew he should be. He wasn't even angry anymore as far as he could tell.

He was just terrified, more afraid than he'd ever been, that he might have to go through that again.

He could still smell it on his skin.

His cathartic anger had run out; it took too much energy. He wished fear would be the same, but it seemed to fuel itself, and there was nothing left of his defenses to block it, not even the sullen detachment that had been the only thing left to him to keep his emotions in check while in the presence of the others. Now that he was alone, it had fragmented, too. His quickened breathing would not slow any more than his quickened heart. It made his throat dry and papery; he swallowed.

During the last fight of the Ankoku Buujuutsukai, Toguro had said that Yuusuke was most protective of Kuwabara, and that was why he had chosen to kill him to unlock Yuusuke's power, though he had been bluffing. Yuusuke knew he had been worried about his human friend, and still was -- Kuwabara was not nearly as strong or capable or experienced as even he was, and could most easily be hurt or killed -- not to mention that he was extremely foolhardy, and even more prone to getting into trouble than Yuusuke himself. Yuusuke _had_ to look out for him; all of them did.

But it was Kurama that he was really afraid for. The very first thing he had ever found out about him was that he was not afraid to die; he would even do it willingly, if he thought it would save someone he cared about. Yuusuke himself, being the same, had instantly known that this was a dangerous thing -- it made skill and intelligence meaningless if the stakes were high enough. He had watched the kitsune attempt that self-sacrifice during the Tournament, more than once, and it had scared the hell out of him every time, and he_couldn't_ watch him do it again after he had almost succeeded yesterday.

The smell made him feel even sicker.

This time had been so much worse than the others. It had been so _stupid_ and useless and it wouldn't have _meant_ anything at all. He had seen Kurama's eyes dim even as he reassured him that he would live, and had somehow known, without any room for doubt, that he hadn't wanted to. That hurt Yuusuke in more ways than he could ever express. It was his ultimate failure as a friend -- that he hadn't been worth staying for.

And yet he knew part of Kurama's reasoning included a genuine want to protect him, underneath his other motives. Worth saving, but not worth enduring the pain of losing his mother; and the fox didn't_understand_ that all Yuusuke wanted was for his friends to stay safe. _He_ was supposed to be responsible for them, not the other way around, and if one of them died for him it would only mean he had failed them again, and he couldn't do that. They were what gave him purpose -- they were what was important. They were the only thing in his life that he had committed to all the way.

When he threw his heart and soul into something, that something was supposed to succeed.

And somehow he wasn't even doing that right anymore, which made him hate himself so much that his chest hurt. Of all the times to be falling apart at the seams, this was the worst, with all three worlds depending on him once again and none of his friends with any strength left to pick up his slack. This was the time they most needed him to be a leader, to hold _them_ up and keep them all going the way he had tried to do in the past. And he was sitting here alone, not even fit to help them plan, and letting his problems crush him like a scared little child. He was fifteen, and he was old enough to be a_man_ and take his punches as they came. He had always accepted life that way. Why was he losing it _now?_

He couldn't afford to be like this, but he couldn't stop it. He felt frantic and hopeless and unable to make anything happen or make anything stop. He could lose them all -- Kuwabara and Botan and Genkai and Koenma and Kurama. And Kurama was --

He didn't know what Kurama was. He didn't know anything. He didn't know what to do, or what to feel, or _anything._ And they all might_die,_ just like Hiei.

Hiei -- right now, with everything else weighing him down, it hurt more to think of Hiei than it ever had before. Just another failure --

_I hate you,_ he thought with feeling, hoping the demon could hear him even now. _I hate you because I can't blame you anymore. I hate you for coming back like that when I was finally done hoping you would. I hate you because you're just like him -- and I'll never be able to sleep again without wondering if --_

He'd drawn his knees up to his chest, and he let his head drop onto them so that no one, if they came into the room unexpectedly, would see him cry.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

The hours that came next were some of the most tedious and brain-breaking hours Kuwabara had ever endured outside of science class, and it quickly became very obvious that he didn't know a whole lot about tactics, while everyone else did. They listed their resources endlessly, beginning with an unbelievably long-winded categorizing of Kurama's battle strategies -- and for someone who claimed repeatedly to be leaving out the majority of his capabilities due to his infirmity, he had a _lot._ After that, he launched directly into a breakdown of his available plants and how long they took to grow -- which was when Kuwabara first found out about the ace-in-the-hole that Kurama had discovered during the fight.

"Yuusuke didn't tell you?"

"Nah, he was starting to say something, but he got distracted when you ran back."

"Ah. I see. Well, this plant may well have saved your life, if I'm right about it."

"Wait a minute -- you mean I didn't hurt the demon because he was getting tired? The plant made him weak? Aw, man, I thought I was just strong enough for once."

"It's an advantage either way."

"Yeah, I guess so."

And the kitsune wasn't done there; for each plant with any mind-altering properties, he described the chemical compounds and their interaction to Genkai, using words Kuwabara hadn't known _existed_ at great length while she nodded and replied in kind. On the whole, he took probably an entire hour or more to get through everything. Kuwabara had to jerk himself awake at least twice.

Touya went next, and his list was so very short in comparison ("You've seen most of my effective techniques at the Tournament.") that when it was suddenly his turn, Kuwabara's automatic response was, "I have a sword."

Genkai covered her eyes; Kurama covered a smile.

Once the brief levity at this had diminished, and his actual abilities with said sword had been established, Koenma took over and spoke of what he could do to help without directly getting involved in the melee, mostly having to do with being an emergency medic (to double Genkai's likely role) and making pretty lights and fire to distract the enemy. This took a long time as well, although not as long as Kurama's, partly because he kept stopping in mid-sentence and picking back up a few seconds later. Botan piped in at odd moments, although she always seemed to pause at the same time, with the same mysterious lack of reason -- and her own offering to the strategy was as a way to get them out quickly if they needed to run and regroup.

Genkai was the last to speak, and disclaimed any use beyond healing ("Yuusuke has all my destructive power now. I'd be more liability than help."). She went on to mention what she knew of Yuusuke's strategies ("He's got strategy, even if he doesn't usually bother to apply it."), while the rest of the group threw in addendums as they came to mind. That, at least, didn't take long.

After that was finally done, they at last began to plan. Touya and Genkai had apparently memorized everything (which made Kuwabara's head ache just to think of it), and they spread out paper and began making tiny, arcane drawings on it, pointing out positions and forming arrows to indicate changes. They made several of these maps (apparently, they were "situational options" based on "potential terrain specifics") and seemed to be tossing back and forth the same incomprehensible phrases over and over again, with minor differences that didn't seem all that important.

Throughout it all, the sensitive remained confused and very put out. He wasn't being any help at all; he sucked at this stuff. But he had to be here, and he had to listen even though he was hardly able to understand half of it, and he was just waiting to be told what to _do._ That was, or so he had been led to believe, the point of all this -- finding out what they'd all be doing. So when were they going to get to it?

It must have been several hours of silent, fuming frustration before everything came to an unexpected stop.

When the kami in attendance halted in mid-word once again, Kuwabara didn't really think much of it. This time, however, his face went extremely white, and he immediately got up, handing off his teacup to Touya without a word. The Shinobi accepted it with a puzzled frown.

"Botan," said Koenma. "We have to go. Now." She went as pale as he, and nodded, scrambling to her feet to summon her oar even still indoors. Koenma then faced Genkai and told her tersely, rapidly, "I'm being summoned home. I may or may not get the chance to tell you the rest of the story, but I know I won't be able to help like we've already planned.

"Just remember: don't let anyone but Touya use it. It has to be kept in contact with his skin, and all he needs to do is pull the power through it -- nothing more. Good luck to all of you, and I'm sorry about this."

There was no objection, only a nod, as Kuwabara was torn between sputtering and demanding an explanation. But the two of them were out the door before he could muster words, and Kurama, Touya and Genkai just watched them go with indistinguishable expressions of resignation, fatalism, and just a trace of pity -- like they'd expected this would happen.

"Wha -- hey!" Well, that was something, anyway -- as was leaping to his feet with every intention of pursuing, without any real plan as to what he would do even if he was quick enough to catch them. Disobeying Genkai's order to sit back down, he flung himself through the still-open door and yelled, "Botan! Hey, Botan, wait just a minute!"

But Botan and Koenma weren't out in the hall. And they weren't around the corner, or anywhere in the courtyard. They weren't _anywhere_ he could see -- they'd vanished into thin air or something, and were simply nowhere to be found.

He got as far as the temple steps, stubbornly refusing to stop looking, before Genkai appeared in front of him with her hands tucked behind her back as she always had them when she was being serious.

"Come back inside," she told him, eyes flinty.

"You just let them leave!" he yelled at her, furious that they'd gotten away before he could catch them. "We're gonna need their help, and you didn't try to stop them or anything! And where the heck did they _go?"_

"To Reikai, moron. Now listen to me: you heard, I hope, that he said he was being summoned home?" Her voice sounded tired and pointed and altogether cranky.

Oh. Yeah. That would have made it Reikai, wouldn't it? "Yeah, I heard him. So what?" he blustered, covering for his mistake. "Who cares? Isn't this more important?"

"Only if you don't understand what's going on. I'm not in the mood to explain this to you just at the moment, but there _is_ a good reason, and I hope you don't doubt my word. Now," she bit out, "come back inside. We're not done."

"Well I am!" Kuwabara shouted, finally fed up. "You haven't even told me what I'm supposed to do yet when we fight! What's the point of my being there if I can't even do anything to help? It sucks just sitting and listening to you guys talk about stuff I don't understand!"

Her face altered abruptly, and her eyes went darker and just a bit wide before she answered, in slow and careful tones: "I suppose I should have thought of that. I'm sorry we've been talking over your head; I don't think any of us are used to planning around less experienced people."

Normally this would have placated him; now it really only made him more annoyed. "You can go ahead and tell me I'm just dumb, okay? I'm even more useless than Urameshi is, and he's in the other room!" Actually, he was closer to outright angry than annoyed. Hours of frustration had built up to a headache he hadn't even really noticed until now, and he was not in any mood to be lied to, however good the intention.

Genkai dropped her momentary felicitous demeanor. "You're approaching being as ridiculous as he is, and you'll be joining him if you keep making comments like that. I say what I _mean,_ young man, and since I haven't yet said that you're dumb, I'm probably not going to."

"You called me a moron just a minute ago!"

"Figure of speech. You know exactly what I meant by it, precisely because you're more intelligent than Yuusuke, at least at the moment. I'm only going to say this one more time: do. What. I. Say!"

She stared him down, arresting him before he could say another word; it continued for less time than he would have liked before he was forced to capitulate. He didn't _want_ to, but there was still that about Genkai that made him feel small, and he couldn't fight the strength of her eyes for long. Not that he didn't try, though -- it wasn't fair for her to do this at all, and he was tired of not being told anything. Just once, he wanted to get his way.

But in the end, despite feeling the way that he was, and meaning every word he'd said, and wanting more than anything to get out of the temple and back to the Makai to actually do something useful, Kuwabara eventually just nodded.

They went back inside.

Kurama and Touya were sitting leaning over the maps, seemingly discussing them in more depth, and upon Genkai's reentry, the ice master got up and returned to his seat on the other side of the room without finishing whatever sentence he'd been in the middle of. He sipped at his tea silently.

"Master Genkai," Kurama said quietly. "I trust they've gone?"

"Indeed they have." She ushered Kuwabara back inside and into his spot next to Kurama before reclaiming her own, reconnecting the semi-circle. "But we may not need to continue this just now."

Two sets of eyes, jade-green and ice-blue, regarded her curiously. "We're not done," Touya said with only a slight modulation in his tone.

"This is as much as we can accomplish without everyone who's going to be involved," she said reasonably. "It was foolish to think we could get very far without one of our primary fighters, and I'm gratified we've gotten as much done as we have."

Kurama nodded. "I suppose that's true. Breaking now may be the wisest course after all."

"Excellent, I'm glad you agree," she responded, with not quite enough tone to tell whether she was being sarcastic. "We'll reconvene in the morning. Kuwabara, can you fill Yuusuke in tonight?"

He was startled just a bit. This was almost -- nice of her. _Maybe she'll really tell me the rest of what's going on and stuff._ "I guess. I'll see if he's okay now." _This is probably gonna suck, though. I hope he doesn't scream at me like he did at Kurama._

"Then it's settled. We've adjourned."

Kuwabara, in the silence that followed, was the first to do anything. No one else seemed to want to move, and he didn't think he could take just sitting there while everything got too quiet again. "Well, I'm gonna go do that," he said awkwardly. And, for lack of anything better to do, he stuck out his hand for the redhead, who accepted it with a slight twitch of his lips.

"Thank you," Kurama said with apparent gratitude and no little surprise.

"No problem." He pulled Kurama to his feet in a single motion. "You're not as heavy as Urameshi is, and -- hey!"

Having only just withdrawn his hand, Kurama fell forward; Kuwabara caught him with effort, not expecting it, and stumbled as his balance was thrown by the sudden weight. "Oi, Kurama! What's wrong?" He shook him, letting a spark of panic ignite his voice. "Hey, Kurama!"

"You moron," Genkai said, quickly on her feet and helping him support the unresponsive kitsune. "Lower him down onto his back immediately."

"What's wrong with him?" he demanded, shoving fear into anger. "You said he was almost healed!" Kurama was a dead weight in his arms, making his spine curve in a painful way as he kept them both upright.

"His blood pressure's still low, and you stood him up too quickly. He's passed out. Now put him down and he should come around in a minute or two." She gifted him with an irritated glare. "And try to be more careful next time."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Kuwabara said defensively from behind a layer of relief, belatedly doing as he'd been told and carefully, gently stretching his friend out on the mat. The redhead's abrupt faint was alarming, causing a twist in his gut -- and how long would it be before seeing Kurama anything but awake didn't scare him? -- but he trusted Genkai that nothing was seriously wrong. He couldn't help asking, though: "He'll really be all right?"

"Yes, yes. You don't really think just standing up could damage him, do you?"

"I guess not." Now that he thought about it, that had been a pretty stupid question.

"And yet, if only standing can cause him to lose consciousness, I fear for our chances in battle," Touya interjected. He remained motionless in his seat across the room, having apparently not intended to leave with the others. "Does he truly have the ability to do as he promises?"

"Hey, what's that mean?" yelled the swordsman, near-outraged by the question. "If he said he can, then he can!"

"And yet," repeated Touya pointedly.

"You obviously don't know much about human physiology, or you wouldn't be doubting him," Genkai said acidly; she was lightly slapping Kurama's cheeks to rouse him. "But you can ask him if he's lying in a second, instead of asking us."

"And Kurama never lies to his friends, you jerk!" The words were out before Kuwabara had time to think about them; and he would have been very disturbed by the identical pairs of raised eyebrows that both of them offered him, had Kurama not distracted him by stirring.

His eyes held an unexpected glaze of fear when first they opened, but it quickly cleared as he took in his new perspective on the world, and the two people bent over him. After a moment of surprise, followed by one of deduction, he formed a self-deprecating smile, and tilted his chin up to view Genkai.

"I'd rather this didn't become a habit," he said, in perfectly normal tones -- not a pained whisper, and with no weakness or strain in his voice. He looked better already, in fact, now that he was lying down. Kuwabara's relief became pronounced.

"You and everyone else," she replied cordially. "Get up more slowly this time, and you should be able to get to your room."

Kuwabara blurted, "I can help -- sorry about before, I didn't know that would happen." Why was he rushing his words?

"Thank you, I appreciate it. And don't worry; I should have realized it myself." He was maneuvering himself into a sitting position, and smiled reassuringly at his friend, who suddenly felt extremely awkward and uncomfortable for no real reason.

Genkai stepped away to give them room. "Perfect. Good night to you both. Kurama -- I want you to drink no less than two entire pots of tea before you go to sleep, by the way, to keep all this from being necessary again. What kind do you want?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll brew my own, if I may; I have some herbal mixtures that ought to speed my recovery. Do you have a flowerpot to spare? I realize Yuusuke broke one of those lovely pots in my room --"

"Of course I do." She snorted. "That's a silly question."

"Forgive me. It occurs to me that I might ask for two; I think I can save the orchids. I felt them still alive when I woke up."

"Certainly. That would be very kind of you."

"It's only common courtesy, and I wouldn't want the flowers to suffer needlessly."

"Uh, can we go now?" Kuwabara broke in, his discomfort increasing with every moment of delay. "I'm really tired, and we all need to sleep for tomorrow."

"Indeed." The Shinobi had finally stood up while they were talking, and reached down for his teacup, which had apparently capsized at some point. Fortunately, it appeared that it had been empty at the time it had fallen. He regarded it with a peculiar expression, and asked, "Where may I put this?"

"Back on the floor," his hostess said promptly. "I'll take care of it and the rest of the dishes. Besides," and there was distinct mocking in her expression, "I don't want you knock over any more of them that might not be empty."

Touya did not condescend to answer her -- but his face colored a trifle.

Unsure as to exactly what was going on with that, Kuwabara shook his head and helped his friend to his feet again (much more carefully); they moved quietly from the room, Kuwabara supporting Kurama with his shoulder, their combined thoughts a wake of turmoil behind them that Kuwabara could feel like the scrape of nails across his skin.

They passed a window. He somehow hadn't noticed before: it was almost dark outside.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It would probably have been safe to scavenge an hour or so ago; but no youkai had yet dared to venture near the site of ruin. It was deserted -- the combatants had moved on.

And now there was nothing left but crumbled structures and smoking craters in the ground, and the bodies of dozens of soldiers, their uniforms of bright Reikai fabrics not even fluttering in the wind, right alongside the inhabitants of the village.

Only a few -- the strongest -- were missing.

* * *

_Okay, IMHO, the "Spirit Defense Force" from the show was downright dorky, although their Japanese titles of "Hunters" redeemed them just a bit. Otherwise, not only did they look like clowns crossed with DBZ characters, they got some of the worst NPC dialogue in the entire Black Chapters season -- which is saying a lot. That moment when you see them sliding down the poles like firefighter trainees gave me such a strong "Ghostbusters" flash (and such a prolonged fit of the giggles) that I went to amv dot org to see if there was a Yu Yu Hakusho vid to the theme song from that movie (and there is; I highly recommend it, as it was very well done). It makes good sense for the Reikai to have something like the SDF, but I always wondered on what exactly Togashi-sama was tripping when he designed them that way. In light of this, I decided to give the Reikai an equivalent line of defense that's much less painfully goofy, and declined to give them a name lest it be shortened to a cutesy acronym. They'll be clarified a bit better in the next chapter._

_But enough about that, and on to actual author's notes. The pacing probably blows in this chapter, doesn't it? But oh, well, I tried. I'm not above rewriting it if any of you have suggestions to make it better, though -- are there any POVs you'd like to see more/less of? Am I getting too slow and letting the dramatic tension die out? Did this whole chapter just seem like filler to you? I would just ask my beta, but one of the hazards of using a sister to beta for you is (I discover) that said sister may occasionally decide that you only love her if she reads your fanfiction, and consequently avoid you as though you were plague-ridden for fear of having another of your story scenes thrust in her face; how this sister gets away with saying this to you when she has repeatedly ditched you for the company of her new boyfriend and his XBox with the big screen TV, you aren't sure, but now no one wants to read your story except the boyfriend in question, but that takes his attention away from her and you're sure that any day now he's going to stop speaking to you for no overt reason and those venomous sisterly glares are going to intensify until you think they may burn holes in your skin and you'll have to start forcing your pet turtle to taste all your food before you eat it because your angry, angry sister knows where the spare key to your apartment is and --_

_o.o_

_Um, in any case, I'll try my best to have the next chapter out soon, although the warning in last chapter's author's note still stands. I'll squeeze my Hiei plushie and beg my gods for inspiration, or something (Yes! My loving aunt who likes YYH and knows of my fanfiction though she hasn't read it yet got me a real Hiei plushie for Christmas, so I can lay to rest the virtual Hiei plushies I have huggled, luffed and tortured these last four years in favor of the genuine article! W00t!)._


	15. Separate Ways

Part 15:  
Separate Ways

_I'm really sorry this one took so long to finish -- finals snowed me under and I had a lot of difficult plot elements to take care of, as well as an obligatory few that were just plain unexpected and therefore required revision of all the others. I acquired another beta to help me, for an effective total of two, and they've both been invaluable. Alla Vita (go read her one-shots!) in particular has helped me on nearly every scene, while my beloved Youko gave me her usual stamp of approval on the finished chapter. Be prepared for a mild amount of confusion and probably some irritation; I swear my brain demands that the plot pan out this way. Also, sorry that I lied about clarifying the Reikai's defense troops; I couldn't find a good place to get around to it in this chapter. I might get to it next chapter instead, or even the last one if I can't do that. Love to you all!_

_6/27/07: Special thanks to hork for alerting me to the missing scene break! _

* * *

The door was locked to her, for the first time.

She had freer access here than even Ayame -- was privileged above the other ferrygirls by virtue of her long personal service to Koenma. As the only employee he trusted implicitly, she had free run of every room in the palace that Koenma did, and was only excluded from those areas restricted by Enma himself -- long, darkly snaking halls and hollow corridors where the dust had layered to ankle height for want of footsteps to brush it away. Koenma knew what lay beyond most of these, as no one else did, though he had never before violated their quiet; save once, now. Two days ago had seen his shoes blackened and filthy -- a transgression he had kept to himself from everyone but her.

Of all the strictures broken in his choice, this was the gravest -- the use, or so he had told her, of a forbidden portal to reach his team in time to save them. If she went now through the maze-like passages of the palace, into places where the lights dimmed to nothing and the echoes became so sharp that they pierced the ears and thrummed down the smallest bones, she could see if she wished the tracks made in his taboo flight, where none had trod for uncounted years. But she might tell no one; she was under orders not to let any of the Tantei know what their rescue had truly cost him.

And yet it was all marginally forgivable, taken as a calculated risk in protecting some extremely valuable resources -- the most powerful Reikai Tantei in generations -- except for one thing.

The Orb would damn him more surely than any forbidden portal ever could.

She was cold and numb, which had kept her immobile and silent even during most of the Tantei's strategy council yesterday, for Koenma had confided in her one final thing: he was done running, and the secret she had kept for him for so long would no longer be a secret. When, and not if, his father came to confront him, he would speak nothing but the truth. Just a few rapid words before the meeting had begun, whispered under his breath -- the closest thing to a farewell that he could give her.

There was no fear, when she felt she should be afraid. But there was no reason for fear. The end of this was all but inevitable, and where there was no hope, fear was a waste of energy. But to contemplate the final hours of her centuries-long companionship -- for she would surely be denied any chance to see him again -- was to feel _something_ at least, or so one would think.

She was past that. Things had escalated to their terrible peak, and to the point where they merely _were._ For what could she do? Become a mortal again and join him in the Ningenkai? That was utterly impossible. Her tenure as a ferrygirl absolved her of judgment. She was guaranteed an afterlife of relative happiness as payment for her service, but she could never go back now; it was part of what she had given up when she became what she was. Koenma would be lost to her forever.

Soon -- very soon -- she would have to leave for the temple. She had promised to help the Tantei, and would honor that promise. But -- how could she go, when she might yet be allowed one last glimpse of him? Could she go at all?

She stood paralyzed before the sealed door, arrested by indecision, and was yet there when that door opened before her. The room beyond it was empty.

She left the Reikai.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

There was a knock on the door. Though it was early in the day, and no one should be calling, it was a smooth, reflexive action to replace the enameled teacup on the table and stand up quietly to walk down the short hall, and step down into the genkan. A moment of hesitation only -- a slightly heavy hand, reluctant to rise from her side -- and she turned the knob, smiling a polite and vapid smile. It wavered only slightly when she saw who her visitor was.

"Hello, young man," she said courteously. "What can I do for you?"

He had significantly less composure than she, and fidgeted nervously from foot to foot. "Can I talk to you?" he asked finally.

She regarded him, not letting the smile slip. "And you are?" she asked, although she already remembered where she had seen this particular individual before.

The boy looked puzzled in addition to his obvious nerves, but answered her anyway. "Yuusuke Urameshi."

She let her smile widen as if in recognition, and nodded. "Come in."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

"Get me King Enma, if you please." As the words left her lips, her anger heightened.

"I'm afraid he's not here right now," the very polite ferrygirl said.

"Horseshit," snapped the old woman bluntly. "Don't try to pull that one on _me,_ girlie. I want to speak to him immediately, and I don't care if he's napping or playing chess or out of breath from yelling at his son -- you _will_ get him for me or I will come up there myself."

There was a distinct pause as the exhausted-looking girl calculated the odds of that actually being possible; and Genkai being who she was, it was not really that improbable. As an old friend and ally of Koenma she had certain privileges and powers granted her, and no one but the prince himself knew exactly what they were, and she wasn't the sort of old lady to make idle threats. That this _was,_ in fact, a bluff made Genkai almost smile in vindictive satisfaction when the other woman (evidently convinced) said, "One moment," and replaced the transmission with the visual equivalent of elevator music -- Koenma's idea of a joke, probably -- without waiting for a response.

"Hah. As if I know how to make a gods-damned Reikai portal. Those things are far too fussy for an impatient fossil like me." Not that she didn't know where the fixed portal was, but it was in the middle of the Makai and she wasn't about to go hiking for several hours just to prove a point.

So she waited, eyes trained on the tiny compact/communicator screen that Botan had given her, and let herself be a trifle amused by the polka-dots and tiny dancing ogres even though she by no means intended to relinquish the pissed-off momentum she had spent the morning building up. Her flippant verbal comment had been as much to keep her rage in check as anything else. This morning had been one of the worst in her memory next to the day she had died -- in point of fact, she might have preferred to repeat that experience again rather than do what she had done today.

Just as that particular wish entered her mind and kicked on another set of reactions, the air before her burst with a loud _snap_ and she was face-to-face with the same ferrygirl with whom she'd been arguing on the communicator screen. Her startlement stayed under wraps, and she twitched a brow: "So I'm to go up there after all, then?" A glance at the compact in her hand -- the screen was blank now. "Nice hold pattern."

Ernest but reserved brown eyes studied her. "I have been instructed to take you to King Enma. Please board." She proffered her oar, and Genkai took a moment to arrange herself sidesaddle in a way that (hopefully) wouldn't jar her bones _too_ badly.

"You have no idea how long it's been since I've done this," she remarked. "Your boss had better appreciate that. This is very important or I wouldn't bother making the trip; it's not my ideal vacation destination."

It was a harrowing ordeal, actually. Having had no physical body during her last venture to the Reikai, she had forgotten the vertigo, and also the faint dropsickness, and the pain in her bony hands from clutching the oar reflexively was an exciting new addition that she was certain she hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing last time she'd done this while still alive, probably because she'd been quite a bit younger. _I don't think I've been up here since I won the damn Tournament._ It only made her less genial, if possible, so by the time they reached the vast Reikai palace, she was ready to disembark and move straight to dismemberment of the next living being she saw. Fortunately for the oni clerks, the shinime at her side kept her from venting her temper, which was just as well; no sense in wasting it before it could be unleashed on its proper target.

Once they got to the interior and contrary to her expectations, she was not made to wait for long. After a mere few moments cooling her heels in Koenma's office (presuming it was still his) while the woman departed to announce her, yet another ferrygirl appeared to usher her down more hallways than she cared to count, a walk that took her nearly ten minutes, before a pair of massive brass doors loomed at the end of the passage and her guide evaporated like sweat in the sun. Irritated all the more by being left on her own in this ridiculously grandiose place, she shoved open the doors and walked inside with her eyes smoldering and narrowed in preparation.

Even in her visits of decades ago, she had never been admitted this far -- nor had she had any desire to be. This was a dim antechamber of truly ludicrous proportions, with spiraled columns, grand tapestries, and a vaulted ceiling that stretched up almost beyond sight. The walls _were_ farther away than her range of vision extended, giving the impression that the hall continued indefinitely in the darkness. It did appear to be necessary, though; the King himself, seated at the far side of the room on a throne that was surprisingly unadorned in contrast, nearly made the space seem normal.

Genkai suspected that he could have been human-sized at any time he wished, and was scornful that he thought she could be intimidated by his sheer size and presence, no matter how daunting others had found it. In the several minutes it took merely to cross the chamber, she steadfastly ignored the luxury and the atmosphere of determent and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as she went. She did not at all wish to be accidentally perceived as reverent in Enma's presence.

There was the first shinime, hovering to the kami's left and maintaining a posture of subservience and respect; and the kami himself was patently wise and inexpressive. That was expected and preferred, since it gave Genkai the opportunity to speak first. She did so just as the other woman was beginning to open her mouth, and perversely enjoyed stealing the thunder.

"Good to know you've finally decided to be timely about things," the old woman began. "I didn't have to wait for six months for an audience."

The King's voice was as large and booming as he. "Make your case brief. I have matters to which I must attend."

"As do I," she replied with irony. "I'll get through it at my own pace, thank you. Fortunately for you, that probably won't take long."

"It had best be important. This is not a time during which I am lightly distracted. The situation at hand is grave."

"You're damn right it is. To make a long story short, I'm not happy with the way you've handled it so far."

Enma stood in his ubiquitous impassivity and regarded the tiny mortal who had the temerity to second-guess his policies. He'd heard about this one. "Your file is accurate."

"I should hope so." Her tone deluged him in irritation. She blew smoke up towards his distant face. "Now own up."

It had clearly been a long time since the King had been told anything of the sort; the ferrygirl at his side blanched all the way to the roots of her hair. But he did not seem especially wrathful, and merely studied his visitor, who herself was actually calming down a trifle. There was obviously a good amount of real common sense to work with here, as she had feared there might not be (having only his son's example to reference), so instead of insolently prodding him to answer she held her peace.

Five minutes or so later, Enma said, "What do you want?"

"Well it's about time someone asked that instead of trampling over an old lady's feelings," Genkai answered dryly, inwardly grateful. She went right to the meat of her visit. "I want you to let your fool son go."

This time his response was immediate. "Denied. He is to be punished."

She shook her head. "He most definitely deserves it, but he was _about_ to be useful when you yanked him out of my house. We need all the help we can get down here. Besides, he's not nearly as clueless about what he's done as you may think he is."

"Whether or not he is aware of his failings is not consequential. He is unfit for his position; he will be removed."

"Fine. Remove him." She hated to say that so bluntly, but it was foolish to think that anyone sane would keep on a ruler who had behaved as Koenma had; however, "And then give him another chance," she continued. "Let him stew for a while on Earth until he's had time to be properly afraid, and then ease him back into things once he's learned his lesson as much as he can. He's fairly far along already, I can assure you."

"That is for me to judge," said the King. "You waste your time, and mine."

"Is that so?"

"Your opinion is irrelevant. You are partial."

"Hah! _Partial?"_ The psychic snorted rudely. "I've known Koenma longer than any other human alive, and I think he's a ninny and a blockhead. He's got the most half-assed, questionable morals I've ever encountered next to most demons, and he can't even keep them straight most of the time. He screwed up my apprentice and my apprentice's friends and just about everyone he's ever had contact with. The only thing to which I'm _partial_ is the thought of denting his forehead with my fist." She sighed. "But he's still a damned kid just like the rest of them, and you'll only make the situation worse if you give him the sack now. Let him learn from his mistake and save yourself the headache of running this place by yourself." And then after a moment's pause for breath she added, "But keep an eye on him instead of letting him run free like you've been doing the last few hundred years. It'll stave off more fiascoes like this one."

"Your opinion is irrelevant." There was no change in inflection.

Genkai's temper spiked. She tossed her unfinished cigarette to the side, and it sparked as it struck the marble floor. "Divinity is no excuse for narrowmindedness," she snapped heatedly. "Koenma illustrates _that_ quite nicely. Get your all-knowing head out of your ass and think about what you're going to do in the future if you kick your son out permanently. He was kind enough to let slip that you've got some other projects going, which I take to mean that you're understaffed, and stop me if I'm wrong, but you probably don't have replacement candidates lined up out the doors. Don't be a jackass -- even kami can't do everything at once, and even kami are stupid if they try."

Unable to contain herself, the hitherto-silent ferrygirl blurted, "You cannot speak to Enma-sama that way!" Her lips had gone tight at the corners and her eyes just a bit wild as Genkai's tirade had become more and more irreverent.

Genkai eyed the dark-haired, kimono-clad woman and let some of her ire divert from Enma. "I'll speak to him as I like, god or no god, because he happens to deserve it. If he takes offense he can tell me himself." Her voice was harsher than she'd really intended, but since she'd intended fairly harsh anyway, its effect was close enough -- the ferrygirl's mouth clamped shut and her eyes retreated behind a mask of damaged dignity, glancing up towards the King as though waiting for him to defend her. His only action, however, was a slight motion of his hand: a crystal-clear dismissal.

With anger sharpening in her gaze, she vanished without even twitching a muscle.

"And where did you find that one?" Genkai asked wryly. "Or do all of your staff focus so much on protocol and so little on practicality?"

"She is young," Enma rumbled. "And she is not the focus of this meeting. You have disregarded your station and mine in coming here, and interrupted a vital task that only I can undertake. You are a presumptive and arrogant mortal."

_Hah!_ Genkai smirked and pulled out a second cigarette. This meeting was hers. "I notice that wasn't a denial."

A pause, and a fluctuation of the electro-magnetic field in the room. "It was not," admitted the King. "Your words are accurate. I do not wish to attempt management of this world once again. However, you cannot assure me that my son will become any more capable than he is, or that your own world will not suffer for his administrative mistakes." He seemed to shrink a little, to come closer to Genkai's level as he conceded her point.

She lit her smoke and smiled. "There are no assurances, you know. Only give him the chance before you put yourself and everyone else out instead. His efforts may still take care of this situation -- his team is a good one, even right now." Her voice strained just a bit. She had reminded herself. "It's true he's ruined his lead detective," she continued over the reaction, "but the others in the Tantei are more than capable of coming through this with a little luck and a lot of planning. The planning is already out of the way, and they've got a better chance than anyone. Don't take it away from them by making their sacrifices meaningless. This fight is all they have now -- let them try, at least." And she added, "And you can look at it this way if you want: Koenma may have made some stupid mistakes, but he also managed to hide them from you for hundreds of years. That's got to count for something."

The kami was silent again, considering. It was almost audible in the cavernous hall, as if it had its own echo; a god's thoughts might have that power indeed. But the psychic wasn't worried at all, not now. She knew she'd won this round. It would be beyond foolish to refuse her now, and she had spoken nothing but the truth.

"Very well," came the expected answer. "I will reinstate him, on one condition: that his team does not require any further assistance to rectify this disaster. If they succeed, he will be given the second chance you ask. If not, he will be rendered mortal, and released to you for schooling. Should he prove tractable, he may yet be given another chance in the future. That is my word."

Genkai made a distinctly sour face. "More work in my old age? That's a hell of a punishment for trying to help you." She deliberately flicked ash on his floor.

"The judgment stands."

"Fine. Then I can go home." She looked around. "I presume someone will return me?"

"Indeed. You may depart; your escort will meet you at the door."

Turning to leave, his guest blew another cloud of smoke up to him. She weighed her parting words, and decided to keep them short. "I'm glad you're finally being reasonable. I hope I won't have to do this again." A pivot and she was on her way.

She was nearly to the door before he answered her: "Likewise."

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Yukina was wearing her brightest smile like a badge when the first set of eyelids flickered and the first of six breaths changed its pace, and the scent of frost tinged the air in the silent temple. Her people were awakening at last, and she alone would greet them in this foreign house under whose roof they now sheltered and healed. This was for what she had been waiting all morning, and she had not wasted that time. Pushing all else from her mind, she had prepared herself well.

She had prepared to tell them of the village's fate. She had prepared to tell them of the threat remaining and of those on whom they must now depend. She had prepared to be kind, to be gentle, and to gather their tears for them.

And she had prepared to tell them of herself, and her life, and that their own way of living was no longer possible -- that they would be forced to adapt to things they abhorred, perhaps forever. She had prepared to accept their hatred even as she relinquished her own, and to be an example for them.

Yet in her heart, she cooled just a little, for one final preparation had been made as well: her acceptance of her new role in her people's dwindled society. She might have been given it eventually, with many years, but these circumstances had alotted the maiden what had always half-enthralled and half-repulsed her: it would fall to her, and her alone, to be the Elder.

This woman's eyes were an icy green, like Kurama's when angered (a comparison Yukina might once have made in reverse), clouded and unsettled and clinging to a sense of urgency. As they latched onto Yukina and filled with pain and questions, she found that her smile had become genuine after all. For the first time, her people needed her -- and for the first time, she was willing to give them what they needed.

This was the chance of which she had always dreamed, and for which she had never really hoped. Many things were going to change.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

One form flowed into another in ripples and ebbs of energy and flesh; the now-human Kurama straightened and let his inferior eyes refocus on the group that stood waiting for his verdict. It was too bad, really. He could have just remained a fox, which would have expedited the search (not to mention saved him a measure of energy), but it did put a damper on verbal communication -- not that, at present, he had much to share.

A headshake, and their faces fell with mixed relief and disappointment. "I can detect no trace of their scent beyond a faint marker that was left at least six hours ago," he elaborated. "In these arid conditions, there is little to hold a scent for long. We have missed our window."

"Then the trail has ended?" Touya inquired, unruffled by the implications (at least outwardly; Kurama knew him to be more canny than that). The blank blue gaze was almost challenging.

"Were it scent alone, it would indeed be," he replied, "but we may extrapolate from their direction thus far and assume they have continued east. Their heading has deviated little for the past few miles."

"Good enough. Let's proceed." The ice master glanced at Botan. "You scout now. We'll continue east; go ahead and watch for them. Return in an hour."

Her reaction at being spoken to unexpectedly was to jerk out of some sort of internal reverie, and nod hastily. "Yes. I'll come back sooner if I find anything." She hopped on her oar, already in hand, and took off on an upward slant, towards the sun as it began to climb laboriously westward to its peak. In a moment she was a tiny speck, and growing smaller.

(_She had reappeared in the early morning, deathly silent, a well-painted figure on her wooden oar with knuckles gone white and her features sharp with some undefined emotion, and no one had spoken to her until --)_

"I wish we had that demon compass," Kuwabara muttered in that obvious way he had. "Then it'd be easy."

"Be patient," said Kurama mildly. "We're making good time, comparatively." He resumed walking, a trace of the fox's lope in his stride, and Touya fell into step beside him. Behind, Kuwabara belatedly began moving again, and his complaint was not repeated. Kurama had not expected it to be. Kuwabara was subdued today, as was Botan; Touya and the kitsune himself were not, but only because they didn't have to be.

It was several hours past dawn here in the Makai. They had departed the Ningenkai at that world's high noon -- having no compass, their target location had been the last known position of their enemies. From there they had followed trail of scent and sketchy tracks eastward. They had, indeed, made excellent time under the circumstances, although the necessity of following a physical trail (the demons were, apparently, out of range of even Kuwabara's ki sense at the moment) kept them on the ground when flying on Botan's oar would have been much quicker. Still, they wasted little time. They had only recently begun to walk rather than run, to conserve their energy, and the four of them were outwardly alert and ready for anything.

(_-- until, strangely calm and no longer unstable, he had planted his feet and addressed them all with conviction: "I'm not going.")_

"Kurama," Touya said to gain his attention. When he had it, he continued, "What are our chances?"

Kurama recalled with some irony asking Hiei that before they began training for the Dark Tournament. "I am not as proficient in calculating odds as my last partner," he responded coolly, "but according to what I can tell, you probably don't want an answer to that question." A sharp glance directed itself at the other youkai. "And you would not have asked, had you no speculation of your own. So why don't you tell me your own estimation?"

He found himself on the receiving end of one of his own critical half-glares. "I ask because you have direct experience with these demons, and I do not. In our meetings we avoided speaking of our potential for loss; I, unlike the rest of you, require a numerical statement. It will help me to coordinate our group."

"I understand, and apologize," Kurama said immediately. "Your point is a good one. Our meetings were less than productive, especially after we unexpectedly lost someone this morning."

"Someone?" repeated his companion with significance. "Yuusuke is not just someone."

(_"Ha ha, very funny, Urameshi! Stop yanking our chains! This is way too important to joke about and you know it!"_

_"I mean it. I've got crap for energy, I missed the meeting, and I'm not feeling my best just now. I'd weigh you down, and you don't need that. So I'm not going."_

_"That's stupid! You'd have to be totally useless for that to make sense!"_

_"You wanna tell me what I'm worth right now, Kuwabara? 'Cause I don't think you do.")_

Kurama conceded with the tiniest incline of his head, a movement that he knew spoke volumes to a demon as intelligent and perceptive as Touya. "Quite. Our hasty revision of last night's plans was my point, however." Pausing for some thought, he gave Touya his answer. "Based on our preparation, skills and energy levels, I would give us no more than a thirty per cent likelihood of success. Less than ten for emerging without casualties."

An eyebrow elevated with a negligible effect on the expression as a whole. "I would have estimated higher, given that I am to take point. I have no ki deficiency as you do."

"I have taken that into account," said Kurama frankly. "You are not likely to be able to find the demons' weapons easily or at all, and in a straight fight you will be at a disadvantage since there are two of them. Without some way to separate them from their parts of the Orb, even you will stand little chance of defeating them." He watched the dust whorls at their feet with fixed eyes.

"I have been thinking on that problem," Touya said, "and it may not be the obstacle you fear."

This got him Kurama's full attention and penetrating gaze. "In what way?"

"Heat-energy is a byproduct of any ki channel," the ice warrior explained. "I may be able to pinpoint the source of it, and thus find the location of the weapons. It is not a sure thing, however; cycling power through the entire body will raise the overall body temperature as well."

Kurama was struck by how much a fool he was for not having thought of that. It was basic physics -- any ningen grade-schooler would have known it, and some might even have made the leap of logic it required. "I see. That does indeed alter our prospects. I will raise my prediction to forty-five per cent under that premise."

"But only if it is successful," Touya reminded him.

"Indeed."

Kuwabara quietly broke in. "I can hear you guys, y'know." He did not sound at all happy. "I'd kinda appreciate it if you'd stop talking about how bad our chance at winning is, okay?" As they turned to look at him in unison, he dropped his eyes downward. "I knew we were screwed when Urameshi left, but I was trying not to think about it."

(_Eyes as dead a green as stagnant water, watching Yuusuke's face with flawless, calm intensity as he spoke to the rest of the group. "Leave him be. It is his decision, and it is a sound one. If he does not feel he is able to fight, he will only be a detriment to us all."_

_"But you _never _back down from a fight, Urameshi! You always --"_

_"I'm backing down from this one, Kuwabara. I'm probably a dimwit just like Genkai says, but I'm smart enough to know when to cut my losses, even when I'm one of them."_

_And the old woman, appearing in the doorway: "Fine load of crap you're spouting this morning. Get out of my sight -- I don't waste my time on cowards. I don't want to see you back here again." Her first words to him, and her last.)_

"I'm sorry, Kuwabara, but it's necessary," said Kurama in a gentle voice. "Those of us with a marked mathematical inclination --"

"We'll stop." Following his interruption, Touya pulled ahead by quickening his step, ending the talk without any argument.

Kurama bit his lip, aware that he had just blundered, and shot Kuwabara a contrite glance; he was uncertain whether he ought to catch up with Touya or remain behind. The conversation had been centering for him, but he had not anticipated its effect on the group as a whole. Safe subjects were few at this delicate juncture, but that one ought to have been blatantly obvious as an upsetting one for the other two (though thankfully Botan had been out of range). Touya, at least, had had the sense to halt the damage the moment it became apparent.

Truly, it was not something Kurama had particularly wished to discuss in the first place. He didn't mind the mathematic evaluation of their chances, and had been glad to focus on that end result, but there were certain variables in the weighing that were difficult to contemplate. He refused to do so now. Where yesterday he would have dwelled on such a thing, now he could not afford to think of anything besides the imminent battle and their road to locating it.

Touya was the ostensible leader of the group as of now; he was to use the weapon, and he was not emotionally involved with these circumstances, and was best suited to the task of managing the team's tactics. The others were the primary search party. Botan was the visual scout; Kurama scouted by scent; Kuwabara scouted with ki sense. Between the three of them, they were effective enough, and there was little doubt, as they were only six hours behind their quarry, that they would catch up within the afternoon. They had decided against allowing Botan to jump them randomly to points along the projected line, not wanting to be spotted and surrender the element of surprise, but they were making decent time and would have no problems unless they had to fight an unexpected enemy. Kurama considered that unlikely, given the trail of devastation they followed -- there was very little chance that anything dangerous had been left alive along this path.

Coupled with this, the amount of daylight left ensured that there was no chance they would have to wait until tomorrow. They would fight today.

Without Yuusuke.

(_"It'd be nice if I didn't deserve that." A wry, apologetic smile, and a flash of reaction that kept itself confined to his eyes --)_

Perhaps dwelling was inevitable.

"Kuwabara," Kurama found himself saying. "May I ask you a favor?"

"Uh, yeah," was the boy's startled answer. Kuwabara took several long strides to pull alongside him.

It was difficult to say aloud what he found in his mind; or anything, really. He was irked that he had spoken at all, and committed himself to this -- but that was foolish. This was important, and he ought not to put it off until the very last minute anyway. And why had he almost let it lie? He wasn't usually so reluctant to speak of vital matters. A trace of youko pride pushed his hesitation aside, though it did not make the words easier.

"I would like you to speak to Yuusuke once this is over, if I cannot."

The carrot-top looked away. "Don't talk like that."

The kitsune was becoming familiar with the way this soft, bitter smile felt on his lips. "I have yet to apologize to you for my actions last time," he said. "Or, indeed, to thank you for your own. I am ashamed of myself, and of what I put you through as a result of my foolishness. I am glad that things did not turn out for the worse, and I very much hope that the outcome will be as fortunate today."

"What are you talking about? Of course it will!" Kuwabara was uncomfortable in the extreme, and it showed on his face, piling on his already weary visage. He looked less tired but no more enthused about this fight than he had the afternoon before -- even his trademark triangle of orange hair appeared bedraggled and lackluster and very unlike the way it had always been. It took pride and self-assurance to wear that style, and for it to look out of place was discomfiting. Still, there was determination, even optimism, resting just at the surface -- he still had hope. It was wounding to that hope to hear Kurama speak of loss; he felt another pulse of remorse.

Still, this had to be said. He owed it to Kuwabara -- and to Yuusuke. "You heard our chances. You are aware that it is unlikely we will all survive. If I do not, I want you to convey to Yuusuke what I have just given to you: my apologies, and my thanks. I have acted badly, and you have all suffered for it; I do not wish to leave that behind me. You are the only true friends I have had in my life as a human, and I owe you more than I may be given time to repay, so I only ask that you help me mend what I can." The smile had not left his lips. "That said, I will be happier to do it myself, given the chance."

(_The crisp, reasonable words of the ice master had spoken for them all. "If you are leaving, then leave. We have no time for goodbyes.")_

Kuwabara stared at him, looking almost -- dismayed? Kurama wasn't certain, and it made him uneasy. He had just spoken something very personal --

"That's not fair."

He was nonplussed. "Not fair?"

"Look, Kurama, you can't just do this kind of thing," Kuwabara said, sounding a little angry and even hurt. His distress was plain, and his voice rose so that Touya glanced back. "You had plenty of chances yesterday to tell Urameshi yourself, and I don't wanna have to do it for you if you get killed just 'cause you were too mad or something. That's not my responsibility." The last few words were lower again, and seemed difficult for him.

The frank honesty struck deep; Kurama dropped his head. His friend was right, and he was a fool again. That request had been neither kind nor fair. He ought to have been less cautious -- less afraid, perhaps -- of Yuusuke's anger towards him, and it was not Kuwabara's place to take up his loose ends.

_Still the youko, I see. Forever asking more than I am willing to give in return._

_I give enough._

_Never. Never enough._

"I am sorry," he said finally, barely audible even to himself. "You are right, and I should not have asked that of you. Please consider it withdrawn." He let the hollow sensation of loss he had felt days ago return to permeate his chest; he had wasted what might have been his sole chance to regain a friendship he valued more than any other, and he had only himself to blame.

But his faith in Kuwabara's innate compassion had not been misplaced. Though it came after several silent minutes of self-reproach, the hand set on his shoulder was gentle, and squeezed once to make him look up. The teen's expression was as regretful as his own.

"Hey, I'm sorry too. I know you didn't plan things this way. None of us knew Urameshi was gonna leave, and maybe you weren't ready before." He smiled for only a moment, but it was a genuine smile. "So I guess I can do that for you. But -- I really don't wanna have to, so be careful, okay?"

_And this is something that only days ago I was prepared to throw away._ Kurama felt doubly ashamed at the undeserved generosity, and marveled through his shame at the selfish demon in himself that had somehow managed to hold onto loyalty such as this. It hardly seemed fair at all -- but he could not refuse. _Always youko, always taking, always --_

"I will do my best," he promised. He knew that this time, he was entirely sincere, and hid nothing from himself.

As Kuwabara dragged behind again, leaving the redhead once more in the center of the strung-out group, Kurama dimmed his emotions to nothing and concentrated fiercely on their battle plans, as though that concentration in and of itself would make his unkind, unfair request also unnecessary.

(_"See you, Grandma; it's been real. I'll be at home when the rest of you guys get back, if you feel like saying hi -- if not, don't sweat it. Good luck.")_

Botan was coming back.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

They halted. This village was finished, and the newly-captured were lined up for inspection.

The ranks were uneven (tall grouped with tiny grouped with massive) and the wounded were shown no pity (but those seriously hurt were healed with a touch) and the loyal stood out from the rest with their heads high and teeth gleaming (for not every demon had been unwilling). The demeanor of these latter earned them no special treatment, but as eager as they were for the kill it seemed to matter very little. A few even hung back and pretended to be rebellious, while the blood-hunger -- and the guilt, where there was such -- marked their eyes with undeniable, undimmable intensity, and even a low-class youkai could smell their need for violence. The truly oppressed had instead a smoldering hate or a metallic despair, equally thick on the dust-choked air, and those who were marked for death were among them.

The female faced them, crowned by a soft, flowing cap and veil of tepid green. Her gaze was equally soft -- deceiving. "You all serve me now," she said imperiously but without hostility, a king relaying her law. "You will obey my directives, and his," she indicated her hulking companion, "or the punishment will be swift and merciless. Those who obey well will be rewarded if they live." That gaze swept them, somehow raking across eyes of every imaginable color, shape, quantity and anatomical position without losing its guileless leniency. "It is expected that I will not be forced to repeat this statement of the obvious."

The braver howled assent for a bare moment before the atmosphere thinned and flattened it.

"Donari," the hulk complained then. "I was promised another."

She growled, and lost some of her regality. "If you whine once more you will be given nothing!"

"But my last one died!"

"Fine, choose another! But do stop _nagging_ like a child!"

The hulk grinned toothily, triumph evident in his face. He rounded on the now-silent ranks of captured youkai, appraising, counting off his options at a sluggish pace that could be followed by reading the approval or lack of approval in every twitch of his eyes. The female looked vastly irritated at having given in to his persistence and did not watch him as he considered his choices.

This youkai was one of those who shrank back perceptibly, not wishing to be selected. Besides the relative danger this position obviously carried, it eliminated the chance of slipping away during the fighting without being noticed -- a chance upon which many here were doubtlessly counting. It certainly was. It should not even be here; it was not from this village, and only its own foolishness had brought it here at the wrong time. It had no purpose in being pressed into service, and less in being selected for whatever this was. Its only purpose was in defending its territory. It should not be here, and it should not be chosen.

But the yellow monster had stopped before it, and was looking it up and down, noting its retracted claws and its delicately sharp teeth and its deceptively unassuming, pseudo-humanoid shape. "I want this one," he declared.

"Fine enough; a good choice," was the grudging reply. "He appears of a higher level than most of this rabble. But be sure he does not die as well, as you will not be given another -- I do not abide wastefulness." Her liquid silver eyes bespoke irony within sincerity. "And now we will search."

Though grinning too much to really notice, and already yanking his prize from the ranks to prod it towards the front, the hulk nodded in deference. "Get up there," he told the youkai. "Your job is to serve me now. And no complaining -- I can still give you to her."

It complied without a word, head down, the relief of the other demons wafting around it. Those who would die fairly glowed with it.

This youkai could always tell when another demon was not going to survive its next fight, regardless of its strength; it showed in the instant before inhalation, when there was a tiny, traitorous consideration -- just one -- as to whether it was really worth it to breathe again. Many of these were that way, and the army would be thinned by near half before the next dawn.

It felt its own breath still in the same manner, and knew it would die as well.

It should have remained a passerby.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

A knock on the temple door made Genkai instantly cranky. She'd only gotten back from the Reikai an hour or so ago, and had been up to her hat in lamenting koorime ever since, and she didn't need any visitors or clients mucking up her already horrid afternoon experience. "I knew I should have posted a damn sign," she grumbled, and gave the doors a shove, fully intending to send the intruder away with a blistered ear. Her intentions shifted, however, when she saw Keiko and Shizuru framed in her doorway.

"What's going on here?" Shizuru demanded without preamble or pleasantry.

"Where's Yuusuke?" asked Keiko worriedly at the same time.

No. She shouldn't blister their ears. She should render them comatose, and therefore not have to deal with this. "A lot of things, and I have no idea," she snapped. "Is that all?"

Both of them looked faintly shocked at her fatigued appearance, and Keiko began to mumble an apology right away, bowing low in embarrassment and chagrin. Shizuru, conversely, took a step forward and leaned down for the more practical purpose of speaking directly to the old woman's face. Her eyes were as serious as Genkai had ever seen them. "I'm sorry this is a bad time," she said, "but we want to know where our boys are, and something told me you could tell us. Things also feel wrong here -- what happened?"

Genkai sighed long and loudly. "Stand up straight, girl," she ordered Keiko, who did so with a startled inhalation. "I'll tell you what I can. Come inside, both of you, and we'll get this sorted out." She resisted the entirely childish and irrational urge to cudgel them both with the massive wooden door, and instead stepped aside to let them in.

This was going to complicate matters even further. She was not going to enjoy it, either.

_Don't old ladies get any breaks these days?_

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

Time had passed; hours had swept the sun across the sky, well past its zenith -- Makai's sun, looming and orange even at its height and hidden behind omnipresent, impenetrable clouds in all regions but a few, choosing to show itself here of all the desolate places in which it might have glared. As it set it stained everything and everyone red, and the sky seemed to bleed around it as though it were a wound.

There were plants here that grew nowhere else in the Makai. They were sparse and unassuming, gorse-like in the desert sand, and some were unremarkable; but there were a few that Kurama had paused in their trek to harvest for their restorative properties. Existing under the direct light of such a sun had the opposite effect from the sun in Ningenkai -- plants fought harder for life, and some had developed intriguing ways of doing so.

"Botan, triangulate our position." Touya pointed at the horizon, an apparent meter to the left of the sunset, and expounded, "Tell me what is in that direction."

_Not to be trusted/useful/intriguing/ally._

She shot upward nearly too quickly to follow, to a height of sixty feet, and then descended. "Nothing. Just more wasteland."

The ice master nodded. "Good," he said in his laconic manner. "We will arrive shortly."

Objective: sighted.

"Everyone remember the plan?" interjected Kuwabara, though Kurama had rather obviously been about to speak. His tone betrayed the nervousness that had made him ask. The sweat on his brow was not entirely caused by the oppressive heat.

"Of course," replied the edge to Botan's voice, drowning its usual optimistic counterpart. "No one here would forget."

_Mindless irritation/pitiable/helpless/protect._

Obstacle: encountered.

There was only a suggestion of height at the end of that phrase, but it was enough that Kurama knew she needed reassurance. "We are all well prepared," he supplied, "and it will not be as difficult as it seems. After all, we survived the Tournament, did we not?" He smiled at Kuwabara to instill a sense of stabilizing cameraderie.

"Barely," the boy muttered. But he and Botan smiled back.

Obstacle: dimissed.

Reconaissance: initiated.

There had been no need for Botan to expend the effort of rocketing sixty feet up at Touya's request. Kurama's sharp hearing rendered the last-minute positional verification moot, as he could hear well enough the sounds of too many youkai in one area. Gatherings such as that were rare unless compulsory -- as was the case now. Too many demons would have been unable to resist tearing each other apart, else. And wasn't that a lovely image? But how wasteful to ask her instead of him. He was more aware than she, and needed no sight. He did concede her flight and its usefulness, but there was no point.

Reconaissance: complete.

_Stop thinking._

_Easier said -- thought -- than done._

_As ironic as I'm certain you find that pun, stop it._

_Will you never cease to intrude upon my thoughts?_

_My thoughts._

_Point._

"Kurama, are you okay?"

_Too-loud/disruption/comrade/friend._ "I'm fine." The smile was now as guileless as it could be made. It took a great deal of travail -- his mind had begun to enter battle-mode, beginning with classifications as it always did. His senses were heightened, all of his automatic body systems were temporarily under his direct control, and colors were both there and not there, present as information but not quality.

Never during a fight, but often before, it would come to this state, and make certain everything was neat and orderly and prepared for life/death/anything else in between. The absence of this reaction had been among the indicators that he had not been in possession of all his faculties during his last encounter, and was now, if not welcome, at least relieving. As a less reassuring point of difference, it also appeared capable of internal disagreement yet again. He'd no clear memory of when that particular proclivity had come about, but it had begun to irk him. It was disconcerting to realize that this, during the Ankoku Buujuutsukai, would have meant his distraction and probable death.

Rising tension, plucking his nerves with insistent hands, and he was making niceties with himself as well as his companions. He really did need to stop thinking.

_Told you._

_Leave. Me. Alone._

"You're really not okay, are you?"

Obstacle: encountered.

He probably didn't look okay. He most likely looked slightly vacant, and perhaps a trifle angry as well. So it wouldn't be a lie to say no -- but he wasn't going to say no, and it wasn't _really_ a lie to say yes either.

"I'm going over our plan, to make last-minute adjustments," was his only weak excuse. "I apologize if I seem distant." _Cease prodding me, my friend,_ he warned internally. _I do not want to snap at you, when you do not deserve it._ And were his eyes warm enough to be believed?

"We're wasting time. Get into position."

Directive: received.

It took a moment to realize the words had come from Touya and not from his own lips, and he physically started, albeit imperceptibly to anyone save perhaps the ice youkai in question. _Jumpy. Not good. I'll only make them nervous._ Well, he could take care of that simply enough by obeying the command. He did spare a moment for Kuwabara, but only long enough to ascertain that the explanation had been accepted (under protest), and to see worry in his eyes.

Time and the ground folded, and he was far away as quickly as a thought, running from them all. That was his role. He was the vanguard. Fleet of foot, swifter than wind, he fled from one trouble to another, without thought or need or want or trivial concern.

Obstacle: dismissed.

Position: optimum.

He stopped.

Familiar country, passed through more than once. He had skirted it as a slave, run it as a free youko, and viewed it from a distance without curiosity. A place with only pitiful youkai, beneath notice, left to continue in their existence so long as no one nearby grew hungry or skittish -- or it had been. Plowed earth mixed with blood and smoke and sweat and fear and wind and everything else that war meant.

He would have to remember, this was not the time for philosophy.

Reconaissance: resumed.

He let his eyes take in the army from this safe distance, just out of visual range of anyone weaker than he, and his battle-trance listed, preparing to disengage for actual combat. There were (he did a careful sweep) at least two hundred youkai in the ranks, all negligible singly but perhaps dangerous enough en masse to warrant consideration. And there were Gendou and Donari, on the nearer side; he hunched and did his best to blend in with the umber terrain, aided by his red hair that matched the wash of sunlight; they were methodically perusing a heap of bodies, or looked to be, without hurry or caution in any great measure.

Hackles rose, kept under tight control. These had injured him, and he had let them, and they would pay for that as much as he already had.

_Enemy/humiliators/filthy/danger/ENEMY._

So, the surprise. It would not do to face them as he was, with his weaknesses displayed in ningen flesh, so as he crept forward he pushed power into his limbs, curling it outward as he had learned to do. The battle-state deteriorated further until he could breathe without conscious thought once more.

It was almost too difficult to make the transition between forms, but once he was the youko again, he felt much empowered. The youkai reflexes felt more fluid and his head cleared somewhat of the fatigue he still carried from his injury; he was alert and even confident enough to stand tall as he began his overt approach. He wanted this self-assured front to be the first thing his enemies saw -- they might be off-balance when presented with him so obviously recovered (or near enough).

It was one thing to be the fox -- it was not an especially powerful form, and required very little energy to maintain -- but quite another to be youko once more. It was a fair trade: it offered much more power, but it took much more power to assume.

He drew nearer, and had time for a few final, wry thoughts -- or rather, another argument.

_This again. You know this is not dreadfully intelligent, especially after last time._

_Quite. But even more necessary._

_Define 'necessary'._

_Adjective. Compulsory, inevitable, absolutely essential, requisite, unavoidably determined by prior circumstances._

_Don't do that._

_You asked for it._

_You know what I meant._

_Of course I did. And you know I'm ignoring it._

_Fine. Have it your way._

Gendou, though not the sharper-eyed of the two, saw him first thanks to a lucky turn. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates; he blurted a few words, dropping the corpse he had been holding up, and Donari swung around to look. Kurama hoped the others were well-hidden already, given the looks on the two demons' faces. Their shock was utter and outraged, and it was clear they had never expected to see Kurama again.

He had to restrain a grin -- but then released it anyway after a moment's thought (it would help to keep them off-balance) -- _I've once again come back from the dead. I wonder what the stories will say of me now? I may be on the verge of styling myself unkillable._ And, oh, that was a wicked thought to think when he was likely once more to die, but it gave his low confidence a euphoric boost and the grin widened until all his fangs were showing. If he lived, it would be a title to look forward to.

Objective: attained.

The last of his half-trance snapped away.

Both of his enemies drew back and fired at the same instant.

He ducked and rolled left, easily. Their aim had been damaged by the surprise. He did not expect the next volley to be so hasty, however, and reached into his hair in a swift motion, drawing his rose from its silken folds (and how right it felt to do that again!) to brandish it against the sky of its same hue. But the natural consummation of that action was forestalled: he flung it high into the sky, and flared his ki through it in a flash of green light. It burst like a miniature firework, with an anticlimactic _pop,_ and he missed not a single beat before another rose, one of his few current spares, was in his hand.

Less than two full seconds had elapsed since the demons' attack. They had not yet recovered enough for a second shot, but all their body language said they were in the midst of preparing one; he let a sneer skew his expression a bit at their abysmal reaction times. But he had seen in their eyes even at this distance an overlay of terror and an instinctive urge to flee from a demon of his rank, coming upon them while they were safe and unaware. The pause had been more than slow reflexes -- he knew they were usually swift and deadly, and had lapsed. But it would cost them, as the flare had its intended effect -- and there it was.

A curious blue eruption came from seemingly nowhere and ice swept the plain, pushing the air along before it; there was a flash of orange light, and the battle was joined in a hail of ki. Touya was nearly bouyed up on the strength of his own attack, cresting towards the enemy like a wave, and Kuwabara came screaming over the hill with a rei ken in each hand, making as much noise as he could and even losing his terror in the rush.

Kurama snapped his whip into being and leapt alongside them. He could pray for neither victory nor survival; he supplicated Inari instead for only a few moments in which to redeem himself. Hope would come later, if he was granted that request.

_x . o . x . o . x . o . x_

It was an exhilarating feeling -- being powerless.

It was so calm that even the birds dared not break the silence as he held a hand before his face, and willed it to tingle with visible reiki, and watched as nothing happened at all. He was still too tired, so tired his bones ached and his eyes swam behind a cloud-soft film of disconnection. He supposed if he tried harder he could make that glow happen, but there was no point in it; if it took so much effort, it would never be worth anything. And even if it were, what would he use it for out here? He was, after all, only in the park.

In a quiet corner of the city, the park was situated in a relatively narrow aisle between houses and buildings, a bright strip of green in summer, green and pink and red in spring. These, however, were the last of the summer days, and soon autumn would remove all color from this place. The brilliant hues as the leaves died would last little more than a few weeks, and the snow was never far behind.

Yuusuke wasn't really sure why he'd picked this particular part of his neighborhood to stand and do nothing in, now that he'd finished the only thing he felt compelled to do. It was kind of gloomy right now, under haze-filtered sunlight across grass baked into submission by the months of heat, with no sound besides wind in the trees and no prospective activity for the rest of the evening (it was around suppertime, and not many were out and about at this time of day). What made this place perfect for him also made it uncomfortable as his last, mostly-suppressed urges to be doing anything other than nothing tickled his skin from underneath. He resented his inability to enjoy the peace he'd stolen for himself today.

He was being an idiot. He knew that. He had no good reason to be where he was, and plenty of good reason to be somewhere else. Being far away had its merits versus being around, well, _anyone_ else -- he wasn't in the mood to let someone share in his self-loathing frame of mind. What good was feeling sorry for himself if he let someone get close enough to talk him out of it? Deliberate hypocrisy was a solo venture or it tended to fail.

Here, though, he was alone and could stay that way. Solitude was important and it helped him focus his stupidity. There wasn't anything else he could call being in the Ningenkai when right now, his friends were probably fighting for their lives and his.

It had seemed so wrong at first -- he'd been the next thing to shocked that he'd even thought it -- but as the sleepless hours had passed him by with torturous slowness, it had begun to make a vindictive, perverted sort of sense. Turning it over and over in his mind had yielded no refutation he could not put down, and what had begun as an uneasy feeling almost like shame had modulated into resolve that comforted and soothed him, and ultimately had been the only thing to release his panic's chokehold and allow him to sleep at all. He had woken feeling immensely better -- or rather, feeling nothing at all. It had seemed like a sign, almost.

Yuusuke had never had the illusion that it was a _good_ idea, just that it was the only one that felt anything close to right. Not a whole lot felt right, right now, so he'd grasped at a straw and gone completely the wrong direction for the first time in a long time.

And who knew? Maybe he was wrong about being wrong; maybe this was what he should have done anyway. How the hell was he supposed to know?

Maybe if he stood here long enough . . .

* * *

_I hope you'll all forgive me for the mucky pacing, and also the random turnabout, which was the result of waaaaay too much thought and waaaaay too little sleep -- at the very least, I think it makes things interesting. So much so, in point of fact, that even I'm not quite sure what the next chapter's going to be like (despite the plot summary I've had written out for months). So I'll get to figure it out as I go along, and I hope you'll tell me whatever suggestions and conjectures you come up with. I'll take any and all plot suggestions into consideration at this point, so let me know where you think things should go from here, and I'll credit you if I use an idea. I think it'll be fun. _

_Also: if the anonymous reviewer 'Jane' is reading this, feel free to drop me a PM or an e-mail so I can actually answer your questions (which I'd love to do)._


	16. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Changing Death

Part 16: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

_School, blah blah. Life issues, blah blah. Other stuff, blah blah. The long and short of it is that I offer my profound apologies for the hiatus of doom, and hope none of you are too irritated._

_Just about half the chapter got written in a single night. That's right_—_a year of trying to get it done, and 5000 words hemorrhage from my brain between finals on a Thursday. This is not fair, but I guess I can't complain that it actually got done. Plot summary was scrapped again. What happens in this chapter was not at all planned. Please don't be mad at me for any of it_—_if it were going to happen any other way, it would not have taken me a year to write. Small references to Blossomwitch's 'Define Mercy' made in one scene._

_Note: For those interested in following this fic's from-the-beginning rewrite-in-progress, it's now posted. And, yes, I changed my penname; Jesanae Tekani is now borderline-mary. Sorry for any confusion._

_LAST NOTE: Posted without beta, due to said beta being temporarily MIA for life issues and a broken computer. All concrit is appreciated._

* * *

The door was locked to him, for the first time.

"Dammit, Dad," he muttered into the slightly nippy air, "do you have to make everything so formal? It's not like I'm on death row. Although I could use a last meal before you spank the living daylights out of me and send me to Earth."

Koenma had found that, here in his empty office, he was now unable to take his well-used teenaged form. Stuck as he was in his natural state, it was easy to think of the normal punishment for crossing his redoubtable father, despite the clear difference in circumstance; but Botan was usually with him when he got into trouble. He'd long since accepted that she never told his father anything that wasn't truth, but she always omitted just enough that he didn't sound like too much of a failure. He didn't intend to spare himself in any similar fashion—not anymore—but he missed her nasty temper and unfailing censure just now.

_Shouldn't have soundproofed the walls,_ he regretted silently, wishing he could hear the incessant din of the "dead people stock exchange" so he'd have something on which to try to concentrate besides all the ways in which this impending punishment and even the wait before it was not the same as every other one in his lifetime. That door was _never_ locked, curse it all—he didn't even have to press a button or touch a sensor beam. It reacted to his presence alone, and would open for him when it would not for anyone else. _I guess it's just a reminder that I'm not really the one in charge here,_ he thought gloomily for a moment. _I'll bet Botan and Jorge get demoted, too, for helping me, and Hiei's going to be worse off than we are. Not to mention that the odds are still not good for the rest of the team. Way to drag everyone down with me._

He tried to convince himself that he hadn't really gone back on his word by all but insisting that Hiei accompany him and Botan back to the Reikai—and he really hadn't, had he? It was in Hiei's best interest, after all. King Enma would not be likely to honor Koenma's promise to give the dead Jaganshi time, and allowing un-sentenced souls to wander about was a categorical anathema—the only ghosts permitted to remain loose were those pending ordeal, or those who had been sentenced to a term on one of the mortal planes. Hiei was neither of these. As much as he'd been predictably outraged at surrendering his freedom once again, Koenma had argued that running would only compound his existing problems, and Hiei had reluctantly seen reason.

Still, he knew how much of a hand he'd had in these circumstances; and Hiei was not likely to let him forget. He had made that quite clear on arrival.

_"You know this isn't our fault."_

_"No? Your definition of 'fault' is creative, kami. In your own eyes, no doubt you're as innocent as the infant you impersonate, but I prefer to exist within the bounds of actual reality."_

_"We don't like this any more than you do. I'm sure that next time, if you get a next time, you'll keep in mind that killing yourself is likely to be inconvenient for you."_

_"Yes, I'll have to remember that killing _you_ is much more rewarding."_

Fubuki had detained Hiei at the gate. Koenma did not expect to see him again.

He extended a hand for his remote control and activated the view-screen. It fuzzed, blank of any image. He turned it off again.

_How long have I been sitting here, waiting to be punished?_

_For the last six hundred years, maybe._

＊＊＊

Yuusuke hadn't decided to leave the park; he'd just started walking again, lacking a destination or a time frame, and had kept on walking until he encountered Keiko.

He was not in any familiar district nor on a well-lit street, so it was a surprise to find her here, wherever here was. He looked up from watching his shoes and saw her standing in front of and a ways from him, hands clasped nervously in her skirt. There was a hesitance in her expression that he couldn't remember having seen on her before.

He stopped.

Immediately she closed the distance with a more familiar, determined stride, one of those hands twitching and then beginning to lift for a good slap. As she reached him, it fell back to her side, and she just stared. "Yuusuke," she began.

"Hey, Keiko," said Yuusuke's voice, acting on its own and sounding remarkably normal. "Long time no see." His face followed suit by giving her a watered-down version of his usual greeting smile.

"I saw you two days ago," she returned automatically, brow furrowing, clearly not certain what to say next.

He saved her from that by speaking again. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I'm—not sure. I've been looking for about an hour." Uneasy pitches occasionally marred her tone, which was otherwise level enough, if quiet. She shuffled her brown shoes against the concrete.

Yuusuke reveled in how normal her voice made him feel. It felt like it had been years since he'd heard it instead of days. Had so much really happened in the last thirty-six hours? But that was the reason he was here, anyway. Still, he felt more like himself already. His head lifted; his shoulders squared, and he felt a flutter of confidence brush against his mind.

"You've got a pretty good record for finding where I am," he said, trying to project that confidence, along with his pleasure in her presence. "You got me tagged or something?" Gratitude threatened to spill over and overwhelm his casual manner.

He saw that gratitude reflected in her eyes, and she warmed to it. "Don't tease me," was her reply. "You're just predictable. I couldn't find you in any of the usual places, so I just kept walking until I did."

"Yeah, that's pretty close to how I got here, too." He made a show of looking around. "Nice trees in this district."

"No nicer than ours. Yuusuke—"

He looked back at her. "Yeah, what? Not happy to see me?"

"No, I am—I just—Yuusuke, why are you here?"

The simplicity of that question brought him up short. "I just said, didn't I?" he stalled. "And since when do you ask me that?"

Her eyes dropped, and she looked away for an instant; Yuusuke could almost hear her flinch a little, but it wasn't hard to read her right now. She seemed upset, and a bit lost, and he wanted suddenly to make her feel better. He didn't; maybe it was his leaden limbs that prevented him from moving.

"I went to ask Genkai where you were," she said.

Guilt and resentment pricked Yuusuke viciously, and the frustration of his thwarted wish to comfort merged itself with them. Even so, he tried to keep his tone light. "So the old hag sent you to find me? What, did she not come herself 'case she threw out her hip?" _What a lame joke. I can't even run at the mouth right now—dammit. And now Keiko's gonna be mad at me._

And she was, from the stiffening of her posture and the way she turned her head back to look him straight in the eye, but all she told him was, "She told me not to look for you, Yuusuke, because she _said_ you needed the time alone."

"Well," the Tantei said flippantly, "I guess it's nice to know she cares, huh?" His eyes begged her to go back to the neutral conversation that had been making him feel so much better, but she didn't notice.

"Can't you even say one nice thing about her for once? She was trying to help you!"

Already, he'd managed to ruin the encounter, and there would be no getting it back. "Is that why you went looking for me anyway?" he shot back with a darker tone, not in the mood to be nagged. "Maybe Grandma's right, and I do need the time alone. Ever think of that?"

"Don't you talk to me that way!" Keiko demanded angrily. "I've been worried about you!"

"And I don't need to be worried about, so stop making a big production out of this! She's not here to get insulted, what does it matter?"

"She also told me where the others are, Yuusuke!"

He, too, stiffened, and what had been a petulant glaring off to one side became a very deliberate refusal to look at her. His thoughts bunched, constricted, and refused to tell him any of the implications he wanted from them. He couldn't even guess what this was going to mean.

_No wonder she's mad at me. The old lady's already told her what I coward I am._

"So what?" he asked, unable to tell what inflection he was giving the words. "Doesn't that answer your question then?"

She didn't retort, surprising him into a glance; and she was back to seeming uncertain rather than angry, and back to shuffling, as though she'd never been upset. Still, he couldn't bring himself to turn and face her directly again, keeping his focus on the roadside trees. They _were_ nice trees, although, as she had said, no nicer than the ones near his house, or the park.

Finally she spoke again. "Genkai said . . . she said the entire universe is in trouble, Yuusuke. The world where the demons live, and the Spirit World, and our world, too. I mean, this is the kind of thing you're supposed to fight for, isn't it? That's what you told me after the Tournament."

He had, hadn't he?

_"Why did you have to go? What would have happened if you hadn't? Botan wouldn't tell me!"_

_"Look, I couldn't just let a jerk like Toguro go around kidnapping girls and killing people! That's my job—saving the world from creeps like him! So stop _yelling_ at me, I didn't have a choice!"_

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah, really. What kind of question is that?"_

"Did she really tell you what was going on? Everything?" Yuusuke asked her, finally turning his head to watch her eyes.

Keiko shook her head. "No, just that it was the biggest trouble we've ever been in. She said the others went to fight it. Why didn't you go?"

Yuusuke was unwilling to answer her; he was sure his reasons wouldn't sound right anywhere outside his own head. But he also didn't understand why she was asking, so he asked that instead. "You don't like it when I run off to fight monsters, Keiko. Why's it such a big deal if I'm here instead? I mean, I know I always make you mad, but sometimes you're glad to see me."

She looked stung by that answer. "It's a big deal because you said no one can do what you do! How can you let your friends go off and fight alone? They could get killed!"

He flinched, hard, and she saw it.

"Look, if you don't want me around right now, I'll go find some more trees to stare at, but I'm not going with the others. They don't need me, and I'm not gonna weigh them down." He sighed. "I don't think I'll be fighting anymore, Keiko. I'm just not any good at being useful, so what's the point?" His heart sped with a desperate ache, and he was trying his hardest not to let any of his turmoil get to the surface where she could see it.

This was still a stupid idea—but what else could he have done? He was no good right now, and if he could be rattled this badly, it wasn't safe for them to rely on him again. He'd thought, after the Tournament, that he'd be able to make up for his mistakes and try again, but he'd been proven wrong in ways he couldn't ignore. He'd _miss_ fighting—hell, being a Tantei was the only thing he'd ever had going for him that made him worth something—but he wasn't going to put his friends on the line just to make himself feel better.

This was, really, his only option.

So when he looked back at her, ready to explain himself better and make her understand, he was shocked into silence by the heat of her gaze, and the fury fueling it.

＊＊＊

Touya was engaged in deliberately sending enemies Kurama's way.

This battle was the sort he favored least: out in the open, full of weak opponents whose only ghost of a hope for victory lay in their quantity. They made a poor distraction for someone who knew what it was, but they were very effective at getting in his way. There was an incredible amount of chaos; every pitch within hearing range, and some that were normally not, was to be heard in the cacophony; he ducked, rolled, and spat shards of ice against the seemingly never-ending morass of demons.

Kuwabara was audible, but not visible as more than a slash of orange ki, and Kurama capered nearby, making short work of many of the demons but just as hampered by their real targets' unexpected and seemingly random strikes as Touya himself was. They were none of them going to get much of anywhere while they could concentrate on neither the din of screaming low-levels nor the two powerful menaces.

That was, until Touya was finally able to maneuver himself into proper striking distance.

They could not afford to lose the element of surprise. These demons had far more experience in using the Orb than Touya did, and there were (as discussed earlier) also two of them. He had also remained unable to use his temperature sense to locate where they were keeping their parts of the artifact, mostly due to distraction and the general morass of tiny ki flashes disrupting his pinpoint. He knew the other fighters were waiting for his signal—a narrow, vertical column of bright blue ki—to advance their part of the plan, but while he was currently unable to complete his, he was not yet ready to give up. After all, their forty-five per cent odds were resting on him, and their morale didn't need the drop to thirty.

So, given the wide-range carnage generated by Kurama's insidious little plant whip, Touya was more than content to throw him handfuls of enemies in order to free himself up for what he was supposed to be doing.

Twist, slash, yank, shove, leap, shards. Battle reduced to mechanical operation, and planning more solid than any matter; that was how Shinobi fought when on assignment. Systematic steering towards his targets; systematic clearing of obstacles; systematic scanning of his allies for any sign of death, incapacitation, or deviation from their strategy. He had everything as much under control as it could possibly be.

That was the case for only a short time.

＊＊＊

At first Hiei had suspected that the ferry-girl's appearance was a joke, or a bureaucratic idiocy of some sort, and he had held this suspicion mostly because it tied in with the assumption that she had been sent to keep an eye on him now that he'd returned to the Reikai. That was all she'd done for the first few minutes, after all, as Koenma and his pet assistant had continued on inside. She was the one who had shepherded him to Kurama's failed battle: red-haired, obviously not of the same regional descent as most of the humans Hiei had encountered, young, and wet behind the ears. It was obvious—the self-conscious way she clutched her oar handle gave away her excruciating inexperience, and she was more nervous than even the neurotic Botan on a bad day.

All these things, Hiei defended to himself, made it perfectly reasonable that her actual purpose in appearing had not so much as crossed his mind until it was much later than he would have liked. It was only when two other creatures had faded into existence at her sides that he'd realized the bureaucratic rules had clearly undergone a shift.

Hiei was currently in the process of finding out just how humiliating it was to be brought to his trial bound hand and foot.

It was just like the Reikai. Like a sword that had always been off-balance, the Spirit World administration had never yet failed, in Hiei's experience, to do the absolute worst thing at the absolute worst time. Apparently, someone had felt that it would be a shame to break such an impressive record on his account, no matter that he had been _promised_ a reprieve from this incessant, infuriating show of force. This was verging on disgusting and ridiculous. He was here of his own will, albeit having been backed into an unpleasant circumstantial corner, and still they felt the need to strong-arm him—when he wasn't being outright incarcerated.

It had driven him to react with more aggression than he'd planned. Capture-servants died silently, as it turned out, curling like burning paper, hoops melting in their fingerless hands and black spreading from their not-eyes like blood through snow. They probably had no actual vocal cords. The ferry-girl had screamed, piercing and high, though none of the devastating black flames had been directed at her. Then the capture-servants had multiplied, materializing immediately in response to Hiei's attacks, and while he'd been able to toast a few more, they had subdued him within an embarrassingly short time.

Now as he half-lay, half-sat on a stiff chair in an unfamiliar room, with his limbs bound and his fire firmly warded by some unknown spiritual charm, he could only take solace in the fact that wherever Koenma was, it was likely to be even less pleasant than here. That unfortunately didn't make him wish any less that he'd never agreed to come.

However, whereas he had little to no real interest in the fate of the toddler, or his over-cheery assistant, there was one thing to which Hiei could safely attribute his choice to follow them out of the temple: self-preservation.

It was just short of entirely intolerable to have to agree with that blazing idiot of a kami, but Hiei was anything but a fool, no matter what he'd been acting like recently. It would be exactly like the Reikai (yet _again_) to revoke his agreement, and Koenma had hinted that it might not be beneficial for the living members of the team if it happened near the battle—some of them might well notice it, and be terminally distracted. To avoid that, Hiei was willing to sit through another ridiculous lecture given by another ridiculous god, and while it was unlikely that he would be let go again, he would at least not interfere with the others.

Inwardly, he bristled and snarled, forced once again to be useless. He _hated _being useless. He'd had a plan that could have helped at least some; he'd had a chance to help make certain that Kurama didn't get his fool self killed again, Yuusuke didn't have a meltdown in the middle of battle, the oaf didn't ruin everything with his stupidity, his sister stayed safe, and the enemy demons didn't smirch his home-world by taking it over and making it into some kind of entirely unpalatable empire. But no—as he would have predicted, had anyone asked him, his newly-formed plan had been knocked askew in the most inconvenient way possible, and now he was trapped in an empty Reikai courtroom and an undignified (and uncomfortable) position.

He knew absolutely nothing about what had been going on since his departure, or how much time had passed, or how long he'd been here, although he guessed it to be some span of hours. He'd spent much of the amorphous period sifting through the events leading up to it, as he was doing again now, and each time he imagined a nastier fate for the arrogant princeling whose actions had gotten him here.

But he was quite painfully aware that this was his own fault as well.

He very much hated having this much time to think.

Presently, there was a booming creak as the doors to his new prison opened, and the kami that stepped through them was not the one Hiei had come to know and ridicule: this was the King, and that meant an end to Hiei's uncertainty and faulty decisions. He would leave the mortal world for good, having died the same way he'd lived and the same way he'd been born: in disgrace, and deserving of damnation.

After all of his failures, foolishness and shame, he was looking forward to oblivion now more than ever.

＊＊＊

The entirety of the last few weeks seemed to Kurama to be a succession of wicked ironies, and this capped the list.

He had always been agile, able to dodge and twist in ways that would make most contortionists jealous; he made full use of it now, and in his mind he cursed and cursed and cursed. His intelligence had been faulty, and he'd badly miscalculated the difficulty of this skirmish. He smarted with cuts and bruises, ached with new abrasions and badly-healed wounds, and he was rather glad for it all, as a reminder that not only was he still alive, but he didn't deserve to be.

Touya hadn't even been able to get close to Gendou or Donari, rendering his search for the Orb fragments null, and meanwhile the demon partners were firing into the melee from a safe distance, not allowing Kurama's or Kuwabara's attention to settle fully on either the pack of demons or their temporary masters. Injured as he was, it was straining Kurama's reflexes to their utmost—especially since he was certain that Donari was aiming for him, and only him.

While he never got near her, deliberately keeping an extensive distance, it was hard to ignore the way she pursued him. She bore down on him and seemed to see nothing else, and in flashes he recognized the hunger in her expression with a visceral constricting of his lungs, forcing each breath out before his body could make full use of it. He held down the fear and kept it even from his scent; but the small stutter of his chest had already betrayed him, if she were watching closely enough. He felt that she had to be.

He hadn't been so afraid last time—but he knew why he was now. Fully, he was aware of what she intended for him, and it still wasn't death. He'd been foolish to misinterpret before. She wanted a very specific thing: not to kill him, but to reclaim him, and to punish him. And that, among other things, was on his list of occurrences over which he preferred a messy, painful end.

_Which I very nearly earned last time. I must be certain to avoid it now, or Yuusuke and Hiei will never forgive—providing that is not already the case._

Wading through the demon morass was like wading through dead thorns that would not respond to his commands, and it was no kind thing to require constant movement as he did, just to avoid Donari. There weren't really that many of them left, objectively—but given the hundred and fifty or so involved, the scramble was unbelievable, although it could be controlled to a point. Kuwabara would never know how carefully Kurama was steering him. A strike taken in order to divert a group, a snick of his rose whip across two demons' ankles to make them fall and cause a momentary pileup, and Kuwabara was kept on the edge of the battle at large. Close-quarters combat was inadvisable, but the human fighter knew little else, and Kurama would not let anyone be hurt due to the his own ineptitude at calculating the odds.

Since they'd arrived, and the fight had commenced, forty-five per cent had become closer to twenty.

A blow came from his left; he blocked it with an elbow. A slash of claws nicked his heel; he kicked backward and was rewarded with a howl barely audible above the din. Donari was currently off to his right, and Gendou somewhere ahead from the sound of the bellowing. But where was Touya? Kurama tried to take a look around for his shorter ally—and immediately paid for the temerity.

A pocket of demons near him exploded, obliterated completely by a sizable blast of purple youki, and he was bowled completely over, head over tail and straight into another three enemies. His head slammed into the ground and one arm was caught by something exceedingly sharp, rending the skin open as his vision blanked into stars of disorientation. Demons tripped and fell over him in their haste to kill, leaving minor bruises and abrasions in patterns across his exposed skin. In the full thirty seconds before his eyes cleared, he was bitten nastily on both legs, and something was slavering after his bloody arm.

When he could finally see the exceptionally hideous thing, he decapitated it.

Kuwabara yelled from far away, and from the scattered words he could make out, Kurama gathered that his friend hadn't been able to tell whether he'd escaped the blast (due to the dust, no doubt). He made the whip-crack that freed him more flamboyant than necessary to reassure the boy that he was still alive, and spat dirt, flinging every demon in proximity outward with a circular snap of the weapon.

Still alive. Still alive.

Damn it all.

Back on his feet, blood whipping in arcs even as his weapon, he resumed his internal cursing. Donari had gotten off a shot when he wasn't looking, and he'd nearly been hit, saved only by his random twists of movement. And that wound on his forearm was deep; he wasn't sure whether it had been a weapon or a natural anatomical advantage, but one of the enemies into which he'd been thrown had possessed a _very_ sharp piece of work, and he was going to lose blood until he did something about it. His eyes darted with manic speed, vying to keep track of the major players in this battle even better than before.

Ah, _there_ was Touya, making his way towards Gendou on the western side of the field—

And then he caught a glimpse of orange, and he looked so quickly his neck yanked. Kuwabara had gotten further in, heading straight for him, and in his travail of recovering equilibrium he hadn't had the presence of mind to halt it. Of _course_ the obvious proof of his survival hadn't been enough—the boy had to come help him, just in case he was injured (which he was, and which was _not_ the point), and _damn_ Yuusuke for saving him last time and making everyone worry so much.

"Kuwabara, stay back!" he yelled. "I'm all right!"

"You sure?" returned Kuwabara. He sounded skeptical.

"Yes, I'm sure! Pay attention to your surroundings!" He let the words be unnecessarily curt, and punctuated them with the unsightly crunching of a demon's skull against his whip.

"Rei ken!" was his only reply, as the boy was distracted by those surroundings, and momentarily driven back towards his original position. A moment later, however, he surfaced again—just as Kurama (also distracted by keeping an eye on him) took a hit straight to the face. It didn't damage him, being a weak punch anyway; but it did undo his hopes to keep Kuwabara safely far away.

Another inarticulate yell, and the other Tantei surged forward through the melee, with enemies hanging off of him almost comically. "Kurama!" he shouted loudly.

_"Stay back,_ Kuwabara! I do not need help!"

Still, _still,_ Kuwabara was coming closer. The kitsune shot a glare full of angry warning at him, almost snarling, and was about to say something rather cruel to keep the boy from advancing—and saw, quite clearly, the diminutive demon who was heading straight for the orange-haired sensitive, darting with speed over the shoulders of the others, tiny but glinting claws outstretched and not at all blocked by the rest of the fray.

Kuwabara, intent on bulling his way through to Kurama, clearly did not see it coming.

Two demons hit Kurama, drawing blood across his shoulder. He paid no attention. Scrabbling up on top of the one in front of him, he made a flying leap across the battlefield, hearing Kuwabara protest incredulously and not caring even a little. If he could get in between, he might be able to deflect it, and even in this state he could take damage better than a fighter who was not braced for it. There had been no time for warning; Kuwabara's reflexes were just not that good. Kurama's were.

He not only landed in time, but was able to deliver a nasty toe-kick to the attacker's chin on his way down. Kuwabara, realizing his peril only now, made a squawk-like noise of shock behind him. The cat-like thing tumbled backwards, yowling, and was lost beneath the stampeding pack, who rushed to engage Kurama before he could get his balance. That, however, wasn't what captured his immediate attention—it was what followed in the thwarted demon's wake, timed just right to catch him as he stopped the threat.

A trap, and he had walked right into it.

He dove to the right, barely in time.

Two ruby-red energy bursts slivered through his peripheral, flash-blinding him and knocking him once more to the ground. A blow came out of the dazzle, forcing him to duck and roll, and grazing his temple. He felt the skin break, and even the minute impact reeled him a little as it sent a jolt of pain through his fatigued brain. He lashed back with the whip in a guess as to the attacker's position, hearing several snorting wails as he sliced apart all the demons within range along that line. Regaining his senses almost instantly this time, he was scrambling back to his feet in preparation for another onslaught.

And then, as the beams of energy had been shockingly bright, Kuwabara's yell of pain was shockingly loud, even over the snarling, snapping masses between them.

Kurama spun in time to see the orange hair sink from sight, with demons howling triumph around the fallen boy and obscuring him so that the kitsune could no longer even make out the white of his uniform. With a snap of his rose whip, disregarding his slight dizziness from the unlucky blow to his head, he sprang over the scant yards of distance between him and his friend—_The demons will tear him apart if he cannot defend himself!_ "Kuwabara!" he shouted. "Don't move!"

He received no answer; but he wouldn't have been able to hear one, anyway.

_I should not have dodged—I knew he was behind me!_

Like plucking seeds from a pod, one by one but with blurring speed, Kurama yanked demons into the air with his weapon, flinging them in wide arcs and digging out his comrade from their gleeful, bloodthirsty pile. His heart pounded in his mouth, nerves shrilling on the edge of panic, not knowing how bad this was, and if Kuwabara had even survived it—he couldn't tell by ki, there were too many around them—

Gendou bellowed, shockingly nearby, and at the first hint of Kuwabara's uniform Kurama gave a desperate yank, freeing the now-unconscious boy entirely in one motion.

He saw right away where those energy spikes had hit. The white fabric showed two large, ragged blotches—one over Kuwabara's right shoulder, and another low on his midsection just inward of his left side. Neither of them would be killing strokes as long as the bleeding was stopped, which clogged his throat with relief, but they were more than enough to put him out of commission.

But there was no time for any relief, really, or even for first aid; the fox first had to get him to the sidelines.

He would have to rethink those odds a second time. Then again, maybe he wouldn't.

＊＊＊

The King of Reikai carried an incongruously small file folder in his meaty hands as he approached the high-seated bench at the front of the courtroom. He was alone, unaccompanied by clerks or other spirit denizens, imposingly silent for one of his size, which Hiei suspected was only that small due to the size of the room itself. From everything he'd heard, Enma was supposed to be a giant—especially given the way his craven son spoke of him. Hiei was studiously not impressed.

Once seated, the kami wasted no time in preliminary words. The file opened; the great eyes, behind their equally great spectacles, scanned its contents.

"Hiei of the Jagan," Enma boomed.

Statements of the obvious. Wonderful. Hiei glared.

"You are not entitled to a trial. I am here to decide your sentencing. What do you have to present for yourself?"

Hiei glared some more. "Nothing, you fool," he snapped. "I don't care what you do, and I'm glad to be spared your insipid trial."

King Enma blinked, and gave over a moment to regarding the captured soul before him. His son apparently had a habit of acquiring acquaintances and employees with no respect for authority—another thing he should take into account. "This is your only opportunity for self-defense," he stated with finality.

"So?"

"Are you content to waive this privilege?"

"I don't repeat myself," said Hiei, "for anyone." And especially not for anyone associated with Reikai. He was quite certain that he would harbor his hatred for this administration far into the afterlife, presuming he was sent anywhere permitting him conscious thought.

Finally, that answer seemed to be good enough; the Jaganshi openly sneered at the fact that it had taken this long already. He wondered how many pitiable creatures begged for reprieve as a matter of course. His own pride would allow him no such thing, and he'd rather be destroyed entirely than abase himself like a common lowlife.

"Do you know why you are here?" asked King Enma.

"Because I'm dead. Why else?"

He might have imagined it, but the god almost looked irritated. "Do you know what your crimes are?"

The half-koorime shrugged indifferently. "I could list them for you, but it would be a waste of my nonexistent breath. You know what they are already. I understand that's part of your purpose in existing." Hm. Maybe while he was here, and this was taking a ridiculous length of time to be resolved, he would see how many different ways in which he could insult his captor's entire race. That was a favorite game of his, from a long time ago, and the notion almost cheered him.

"It seems," Enma rumbled, "as though you have been misfiled."

"Misfiled? Are your people so incompetent that they can't keep track of anything?"

"The manner of your death was recorded wrongly. This must be accounted for."

Hiei's insubordinate tone was quite deliberate, mirroring the expression he'd adopted, as he replied shortly, "I know exactly what the manner of my death was. According to that fool Koenma, suicide is a crime."

"Yes," said the King, "but you did not commit it."

A moment of panic-laced anger bolted up from his badly-stitched control and had to be throttled down, leaving a bad taste in the back of his throat. Someday, someone had to lodge a complaint at the range of senses a ghost possessed—he'd have rather done without his ability to taste entirely. "Of course I did. My blade, in my hand, ended my meaningless life. Or are you going to waste time on technicalities like your inept son seems so fond of doing?"

"You are judged by your actions and your intent equally," the kami intoned.

"Hn!" Hiei put as much contempt behind that as the syllable could hold. "What does my _intent_ matter to you? Your rules are as pointless as my existence. Wherever you're going to send me, do it now."

There was a pause as the King studied him, and seemed to consider his words. Then his spectacles flashed opaque (and why did a god need those, anyway?), and he closed the file folder. "Very well. I have reviewed your case, and come to a decision."

Hiei said pointedly, "It's about time."

There was an overly dramatic pause before Enma began to speak again. "No place in the Reikai was prepared for you—no projected scenario predicted your death," were his first words. "Your presence in this world is unplanned, and your absence from your assigned duties is inopportune. These events have caused unnecessary complication and endangered the order enforced by this world. If you had intentionally caused your death, you would be punished with severity. However, you did not."

What in the Meikai was this? Hiei let his eyes narrow, calculating. This couldn't be leading up to anything good, no matter what it sounded like. He waited for the reversal to be voiced—but it never was.

"You were given parole and employment as a condition of your freedom from incarceration. You violated its terms, knowingly and deliberately. My son's actions, however, violated these terms as well, by imprisoning you, thereby granting you a reprieve from the usual sentencing for that transgression.

"It is my judgment," the kami rumbled ominously, "that your parole be reinstated, and that you return to the duties assigned at your previous sentencing. All actions you have taken as a result of your death are to be without any consequence; your parole, and the parole of your patron, will be extended ten years as punishment for your deliberate disobedience. Will you comply willingly with the terms of your sentencing?"

＊＊＊

There was tea on the table and incense burning nearby, and for an evening so heavy, it was pleasantly cool. The past handful of hotter afternoon hours were as forgettable as the rest of present reality, for as long as silence was permitted to linger, and it was surely a tempting notion to let it reign indefinitely. Practicality declined all three of the temple's uninjured occupants that luxury; but it was Shizuru who broke the illusion.

She offered Genkai a cigarette. The old woman turned it down, but accepted a light for her own favorite brand. Sakyo's lighter flashed against the room's dimly traditional background. "Do you think I'd make a decent replacement?"

"Oh, probably," said Genkai. "You're most certainly strong enough. You're not the type to run about with the boys and leave your household unmanaged, though. Oh, I know you made it work through the week you spent at the Tournament, but you're not made of money, and neither am I."

"I could help train him if I were there."

"You do that already, as I hear. Trust me—you walking into a fight alongside your brother would be damaging to his concentration, not in the least because you're a woman. The only reason they didn't hassle me at the Tournament was because they didn't know at first, and they needed me to continue. You're doing a good enough job as it is, although I can't say I'd advise against some training just in case."

The brunette shrugged. "I thought I'd offer. They're going to need someone, you know."

"Maybe. _If _they get out of this mess. But I think Keiko will do some of the work for them."

"You think she'll go looking for Yuusuke anyway?"

"Of course she will." Genkai snorted. "When that girl gets worried about him, she'll find him no matter where he is, and she was definitely worried."

"I'll say. Puu was suddenly frantic a couple of days ago, and then fell down in the middle of flying and didn't move again for an entire night. She was already badly freaked before that, too." Shizuru puffed thoughtfully on her cigarette and looked at Genkai in a way that said she knew the old woman had answers. "I had a nightmare around the same time. What happened?"

Genkai sipped her tea. "Kurama almost died, and then Yuusuke almost died. But they're both fine now—or still alive, at least."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense." She didn't seem perturbed by the matter-of-fact response.

"That brings you up to knowing most of what I know," said her hostess, "and Yukina can give you a few more details later—she's resting right now. So what are you going to do? Not tear off after them, I hope."

Shizuru's recline on the cushion was slow and studied, as she balanced her teacup and smoke in the same hand while running the other through her hair. It answered the question before she did. "That wasn't really my plan, no. One Tournament's enough; I don't really want to get killed. But you'll train me, right?"

"Not right now, I won't." A vitriolic glare. "And I wasn't aware that recommending that you take training was the same as offering it to you myself. That's what I have the dimwit for, and I've already given him my powers."

"Who else would you suggest?"

"No one in this crummy town, that's for sure."

A deliberate, measured pause. "So you'll train me, right?"

Despite herself, Genkai let a smirk catch her mouth, and she, likewise, leaned back a little on her cushion. Shizuru's eyes were as amused as her own. "I'll think about it. I might just have a disenfranchised kami to look after instead, and you're far too stubborn for my liking. One pig-headed student is quite enough for any woman's lifetime."

Another of her slow, tranquil shrugs, and Shizuru quietly finished her tea. "Lucky you."

"I know."

＊＊＊

What occurred then was beyond Touya's control.

He still had not yet completed his search—Kurama's signal, a tall, flowering vine of an indescribable and virulent hue, came too early, unexpectedly, leaving him at a sudden loose end. Was he to play his own hand now? He cursed; they had not planned for this. Touya's own signal was to have come first no matter what.

He had time to calm himself. This was likely minor compared to their other present handicaps. Once the plants appeared, now that he was finished tending Kuwabara he would be able to test their effectiveness fairly quickly—and if all went well, the enemy was about to get a very rude surprise.

That, of course, was before he got one himself.

＊＊＊

Yuusuke had only a moment to digest the fact that Keiko was angry again before she closed the small gap between them, and slapped him. _Hard._ He was reminded of the way he'd seen her take out Mr. Iwamoto during the assault of the Makai insects.

Had it been something he deserved for having playfully riled her, as it usually was, he'd have done a pratfall and then laughed at her ire, but she had _meant_ that slap—so all he did was let his head snap back for a moment, and his eyes glaze with momentary shock. The subsequent step back was involuntary, part and parcel of his complete confusion as to why she had just done that.

"What—what the hell, Keiko?" he finally managed to ask, checking with his fingers for a welt across his cheek. "I didn't even look up your skirt!"

"You're such an immature brat, Yuusuke!" she yelled at him, her hand still hovering to one side as though it were ready to deliver another strike. "Don't lie to me!"

"What? I _didn't!_"

That earned him slap number two. He felt that perhaps she'd been practicing, and upping her strength to match his new endurance, because he didn't remember them hurting this much before.

Her volume rose even more. "You know what I meant! Don't _lie_ to me and tell me you're not fighting anymore, and that your friends don't need you! They've needed you this whole time, that's what you promised me, so how can they not need you now?" Her voice, as it often did when she was upset, cracked on the highest pitches and made her sound hysterical and wild; reacting in tandem to the outraged edge it also held, it was hard for Yuusuke not to back up again. He'd so rarely been treated to a fully furious Keiko, instead of the lightly antagonized Keiko he'd been friends with all his life, and it was actually frightening.

He couldn't fight it physically, that was for sure.

He threw up the only verbal defense he could, letting his rationalizations out into the open as he'd wanted to avoid. "I've got no energy right now, Keiko—I didn't get to help plan, I didn't get any sleep, and I'm kind of messed up right now! I'm not walking into a fight like that, I'll get them all killed!"

"That's not any worse than the Tournament!" she countered.

"Yes, it is!"

"You didn't even _have_ a plan then, and you still got through a whole day of fights without any rest!"

"That was different!"

"It was not!"

"It was, too! It's not like I had a choice then!"

She didn't back down, not fazed by the childish denial. "Honestly, Yuusuke, you can be so selfish sometimes!"

"Hey, at least I'm trying to do the right thing this time!" he shot back with heat. A pebble crunched under his foot as he stepped forward to bring himself level. "Do you think I wanna be here instead of helping them? They're my friends!"

"And you're doing a great job of letting them down!" she returned. Her eyes, fixed on his, were an angry red-brown—reminding him uncomfortably of Hiei for bare instant—and were in the process of filling up with tears.

That stopped him, and he recoiled, losing the step he'd just taken. _What the heck is she crying about?_ "Hey—Keiko," he said uncertainly, because she was still glaring at him, and he suddenly didn't know what to say next. He let his mouth form the first words that came to it: "What's wrong?"

That question was among the things she hadn't wanted to hear, and he knew it before she reacted. He tried to qualify it hastily as he saw her tears begin to intensify. "I mean I _know_ what's wrong, I'm a jerk, and I knew I was selfish before you said it, but what're you _crying_ for? I didn't mean to—I thought you'd be happy with me for once 'cause I'm not off fighting—"

She ran over his last few words and killed the ones that would have followed, and the waning sun made a contradictory mask of her face where bright tear-trails halfway overlapped with rosy shadows. "If you care more about yourself than them, then you probably don't care about me at all!" And with that, she made a stumbling turn on her heel and was running away down the street.

Yuusuke lost awareness of his surroundings for a moment—all he saw was Keiko's retreating form, and couldn't hear anything but that insane accusation in his ears.

By the time the rest of the world returned, he had already caught up to her, forgetting to rein in his speed as he always did in the Ningenkai and simply blurring to her side to grab her wrist. She tripped, and he caught her before she fell, pulling her into his arms. He tried to speak but stalled just after her name. "Keiko . . ."

"Let me go!" She pulled away, and he let her, head still twirling in disbelief. She couldn't have really _meant_ that—that was just _dumb._ Of course he cared about her—now if he could only get past the block in his throat to tell her so—

But she rounded on him, her hair wild and angry behind her shoulders. "It's true, isn't it!" she flared, making him step back. "Your demon-fighting is the most important thing to you, and if you don't care about it you don't care about anything! You never tell me about it, either—I have to ask Kuwabara if I want to know how you are!"

"Well you never ask _me!"_ he defended automatically, without actually intending to speak, danger-sense blaring as the words left his mouth.

She practically shrieked in his face, "I shouldn't have to! You shouldn't keep me out of the loop like this when you know I care about you! You're always off saving people and getting into Tournaments and I don't even know what else, and it's not fair to just leave me behind and let me wonder whether you're okay! You made me wait an entire week before you let me know where you were, much less that you were leaving in the first place, and then you just _left again_ right after you got back like I hadn't been waiting at all!" She hiccuped, losing some of her momentum but pushing on through her angry tears. "I looked for you for _hours_ today, and you're _here,_ and you didn't even come to see me! You were going to let me wonder again, I know you were!"

She had run herself out of breath, and Yuusuke scrambled to say something less incriminating before she got any further. "Whoa, Keiko, you've got it all wrong!" he protested, still not quite believing he was having to defend himself like this. "I just wanna protect you! If I always told you everything you'd just worry a lot, and—"

"I always worry!" she yelled at him. "How can I _not_ worry when I never know if you'll come back alive tomorrow? Instead you'd rather I not know next time you die, and just find out the way I always find out everything? I at least want to be there if you're going to fight anymore!"

"I thought you _wanted_ me to stop fighting!" He was really, truly, actually confused, and beginning to be angry about it. "Do you want me to let you get involved in something I know you hate? You'd just be a target for demons to get at me through you!"

"I'm already a target!"

"Which is why I don't want you to be more of one! At least this way demons have to go out of their way to find you instead of you standing right there and making it hard for me to concentrate!"

"Like you concentrate at all when anyone else is in trouble! Why am I different from them?"

"Because you're not a fighter! They can protect themselves!"

"And that's what it's always about, isn't it!"

That, spit like a mouthful of bitter venom, sounded so much unlike her that Yuusuke reeled. He wasn't quite struck dumb, but he might as well have been—that half-second's loss of momentum was all she needed.

Every other word halfway broke on her tears. "Just because I can't beat up demons, you treat me like I don't matter, and I'm sick of you leaving me behind all the time!"

"Keiko, I—"

"But I won't be a dead weight for you, and I won't let you shelter me like I'm a child!" She threw a hand up to point at him, dramatic and uncannily lovely in her fury. "If your friends don't need you now, they'll never need you again, and you can stay with me instead of throwing yourself into danger all the time—but if they _do_ need you and you want to fight, you have to include me, and I don't care if it's dangerous! I need to be there with you! If you want me in your life, you have to want me in _all_ of your life, Yuusuke!"

Silence, reverberating hollowly. Shock, flat and tinny. Cicadas in the grass, and fireflies beginning to light every so often behind her.

_She means it._

At any other time he would have marveled at her courage, taken pride in her spirit. At any other time he would have felt good to know how much she cared. At any other time he might have agreed, might have thought he could really protect her from everything that he was. At any other time—

Speech stuttered from his throat and petered out before it was realized. He reached for her hand; she held it away, and looked no less determined for the moisture on her cheeks.

"Well?" she demanded. "Do they need you or not?"

_"Keiko,"_ he burst out, "don't make me do this right now!" He groped for words, blindly, trapped in an unexpected and unfair corner. His fists clenched, unclenched, and repeated that motion almost convulsively; he certainly had no real control over it. He nearly swayed on his feet as all this stacked on top of his total exhaustion, and the already messed-up feelings he still hadn't sorted out about this situation. That question—that ultimatum—he had never, never expected this from Keiko, not in a million years.

He'd always tried to understand Keiko—ever since they had been kids together, she'd always been smarter than he was, one step ahead, and he guessed at her feelings as much as he ever knew them. Maybe this was what he got for being too dense to really _get_ her all the way, like she got him. He'd have seen this coming otherwise, and been able to do something about it.

He wanted to. He wanted to grow old with her like he'd told Toguro—and yes, he _wanted_ her to be a part of his whole life. If she were really a fighter, he'd never have tried to shelter her. But if she followed him again, she could _die;_ Toguro had threatened to kill her, and could have done it at any moment he wanted, and hell, any random demon in the stands of the Dark Tournament could have done the same. Yuusuke couldn't even protect his friends, and they weren't totally helpless in a demonic fight like she was. Against humans, she'd proven her abilities, but demons were as far above her strength as gods were above his.

And yet he couldn't tell her no, not when it meant this much; but he still didn't know if he wanted to fight anymore, either. In its own way, that _had_ been a lie—he didn't know how to feel about it.

_If my friends don't need me now, they'll never need me again . . . But—what if they do need me again? What if something even worse happens, and I'm strong enough to do something that time? What if I'm the only one who can? Or what if demons come after me because of all the fighting I've already done? I _can't _promise not to fight again, no matter what I want. But—does that mean—_

_What if the others really _do _need me, right now?_

Nothing would resolve.

He didn't have any answer for her at all.

He was suddenly more ashamed than he could ever remember being in his entire life, and knew it showed in his face. He'd ruined things with Keiko, and now he'd let all of the other important people in his life down completely, and the scope of his failure had grown so much that for a moment, a clear and lucid span of perhaps six or seven full seconds, he wished he were dead and he meant it. He'd been dead, and it wasn't so bad—and he wouldn't be able to muck anything up anymore.

After a silence that was longer than he could fathom, he abruptly knew that she was about to run away again. Silence meant rejection to her—and he'd never be able to fix things if he let her go now. He had to _stop_ her somehow—

And his mouth did it for him again, as his body helplessly refused to move. "Keiko, I love you."

＊＊＊

He struggled out of what must have been the most sluggish senselessness he'd ever experienced, wading out of bloody nightmare and into waking. He hurt all over—his eyes stung as light spiked through their lids, his lungs felt constricted and his throat thick—and if there were a worse place or a worse circumstance for returning to consciousness, he had no concept for it. The pounding in his ungrateful skull counterpointed the steady beat of pulse in both temples, keeping him from clear thought, or from being able to hear anything around him properly; there was someone next to him that was far too close for his comfort, and that person was speaking, but though it seemed to echo with volume, he could not tell what they were saying.

That was fine. He really didn't want to know.

But eventually, though he loathed the notion, he would need to move, and to open his smarting eyes, so he worked towards that goal, waiting for the hateful sensations to reach borderline-bearable levels and then twitching an experimental hand.

"Good," said the voice, suddenly clear: female, crisp, cool, detached. "The procedure was successful," it continued. "No complications in the transfer."

"Are you sure that was really necessary?" sighed a second, male, regretful with a trace of fear.

"The orders were clear. His compliance was not expected, nor required."

"News to me," was the muttered reply. "Is he awake?"

Yes. Yes, he was awake. Hiei growled through a throat so dry as to render it more a rattling cough than a threat. "I will kill you both in the next ten seconds," he rasped, forcing his eyes to open and to glare, and wishing it were as easily said as done.

Outlined in bright, dripping fluorescent light, Koenma sighed again, and the dark-haired ferry-girl to his left raised an eyebrow. "Welcome back," was all she said, and then she vanished.

* * *

_I realize this is a rather over-the-top entrace for Keiko as a character, for which I very much apologize; I haven't given her enough backstory in this fic, and while her huge reaction to the situation is something I do consider in character under the circumstances, I haven't really shown you guys how she got here. That's one of the many things my ongoing rewrite is intended to include. For the time being, I'm just going to have to apologize, and promise that I thought out her characterization as best I could. I'll take questions if anyone wants the explanation._

_So here's the time for me to explain that I really, truly don't have any idea what's going to happen next. Overall plot outline remains, but the particulars were just shot to hell by this chapter, and I don't have anything at all written for chapter 17 yet. Feedback is therefore somewhat important, providing anyone is still reading after so long a break between postings. I'm sure I'll muddle through without it_—_I couldn't stop writing this if you threatened to pull my fingernails off_—_but it would definitely be helpful._


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